


Wicked Game

by quackers



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Police, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Angst, Blood, Choking, Closeted Character, Dark, Detectives, Dom/sub Undertones, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Police, RPF, Serial Killers, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:32:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 101,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quackers/pseuds/quackers
Summary: Detective Ryan Bergara of the LAPD has been tasked with finding the nation's newest serial killer, a murderer who leaves no trace and has no pattern. A new partner with fresh eyes might be just what he needs to find the suspect. If only Detective Madej wasn't so distracting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No offense meant to anyone at BuzzFeed. This is just for fun!
> 
> I obviously have no idea how police procedures work.

Janet Churchill looked peaceful. Half reclined on the arm of her couch, her legs were tucked up to the side in a comfortable sprawl. If her head hadn’t been unnaturally slumped backwards, they could have interrupted her in the middle of watching TV. 

The dead didn’t have much need for TV.

Ryan Bergara, detective for the Robbery Homicide Division of the LAPD, rose from his crouch with a weary sigh. He carefully rolled the rubber gloves off his hands, throwing them into an evidence baggy before allowing himself the luxury of running his fingers through his hair. 

“Look like our guy?”

Ryan glanced up at Detective Hayes before returning his attention back to the corpse. “Yeah. Same MO. We’ll need to see what Forensics and the pathologist have to say, but I’m certain it’s the same perp.”

Hayes waved his hand in a vague direction at Churchill’s body. “Stabbing people isn’t exactly exclusive to our friendly neighborhood serial killer, you know.”

“Call it a feeling,” Ryan said. 

The other detective didn’t bother hide rolling his eyes. “You and your feelings, Bergara. Need a ride back to the station?”

“Hey man, gut feelings got me to where I am today.” Ryan cast one last look at the victim, lingering on the precise stab wound at her neck, before turning away and making his way towards the door. 

\----------------------

Any place that the LAPD called home was always busy, no matter the time or day. But with the nation’s newest serial killer making his presence known once again, the station was a madhouse. Reporters waited like sharks on the front steps, harassing every detective trying to make their way inside, regardless if they were on the case or not. 

Ryan kept his head down and pushed his way through the crowd, hoping his sunglasses would help keep him anonymous. Judging by the shouts for his attention, it didn’t really work. 

“How the hell did the media learn about this so quickly?” Ryan hissed at Hayes as they burst in through the doors. He was thankful that the reporters weren’t yet daring enough to come inside the building, or he’d have to start doing his investigation from his apartment. 

This was the first murder to occur after Ryan had been made the lead investigator on the case, and while he had been proud that his superiors thought he had the ability to solve such a high profile set of cases, he had not been prepared for the amount of scrutiny that came with it. This was only his fourth homicide case, and once the nightly news had found out that little nugget of information, it had become a shitstorm. Even the governor had had something to say about that. Not for the first time, he thought about giving the case to someone else. 

“Bergara! Boss wants to see you,” Detective Evans yelled from his desk. 

Ryan made a face at Evans over the partition that separated the squad room from the secretary’s desk, then nodded a greeting to the secretary. She nodded back with a sympathetic grimace. “Evans is right. You’ll want to go right away.”

“Did he say what he wanted?”

She shook her head.

Hayes clapped a hand on Ryan’s shoulder, then pushed him towards Chief Flores’ door. “I’ll take that as my cue to run. Try to keep your homicidal pal out my district, eh?”

Ryan coughed, then let out a little laugh, shocked into humor. “He’s not my pal, asshole.”

“The serial killer or the Chief?”

“Either,” Ryan yelled over his shoulder even as he knocked on the Chief’s door. There was a gruff invitation and he quickly pulled open the door and slipped inside, sobering almost instantly. His boss was a nice enough guy, but Ryan knew the man had been under a lot of pressure once everyone came to the realization that a serial killer had set up shop in LA. It would probably be best not to antagonize him. 

There was a man sitting in one of the two chairs facing Flores’ desk. He quickly stood up as Ryan entered the room, offering his hand. It took Ryan a second to respond, because damn, the guy was all limbs and a big head. Sure, he wasn’t the tallest man Ryan had ever met, but something about this guy’s lanky form made him seem even taller than he already was. 

“Detective Bergara? It’s a pleasure to meet you.” 

Ryan shook the man’s hand automatically, looking over at Flores with a raised eyebrow. “You too, Mr...?”

“Detective Madej. Just transferred from Irvine.”

“Bergara, Madej is going to be working with you on the Lover case,” Flores said, setting down a stack of files. 

Ryan tried not to wince at the name the media had bestowed on the serial killer. He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing when Madej raised an eyebrow at him and mouthed ‘Lover?’ incredulously. 

Flores continued, oblivious to or ignoring their interaction. “While we have every confidence that you’ll be able to track this dick down, Madej has a few more years of experience and helped take down that Johnston murderer from a couple years ago. Hopefully he’ll have some insight that will help.” The Chief gave them a small, weary smile. “That, and we don’t actually have anyone else to put him with right now.” 

Ryan laughed despite himself, pushing away the feelings of inadequacy and jealousy. For a moment, he wanted to protest that he didn’t need a partner, that he had this handled. But that was a bullshit reaction and even he knew that. It wasn’t uncommon for detectives to work together and since this case was such a media circus, the more eyes the better. So he ignored any negative feelings and grinned broadly at Madej, who looked politely skeptical about the entire situation. 

“Well,” Ryan said as he picked up the files that Flores pushed towards him. “Welcome to the madhouse, Sasquatch.” 

Rather than get offended, Madej just rolled his eyes as he followed him out of the office and back into the squad room. “Like I haven’t heard that one before.”

“Take off your jacket,” Ryan said, plopping the files onto his desk with a resounding smack. “I’m sweating just looking at you.” 

“Yeah, well, first impressions and all that,” Madej responded, casually shrugging out of his suit jacket, then folding it over his arms. He unknotted his tie with one hand, leaving it to hang limply around his neck, then unbuttoned the top of his shirt. Ryan carefully looked away from the revealed collarbone, gesturing instead at a chair that sat on the other side of his desk. 

“You can sit there for now,” Ryan said, frowning in thought. “We’ll have to talk to Mary about getting you a timeshare for one of the desks. Or maybe they’ll be able to fit another one into the room somehow. You’re not exactly a newbie, so you shouldn’t be forced to share with the kids. Actually, did they already talk to you about all of this? Where you introduced to anyone other than me and the Chief?” Ryan looked up, realizing that he had been rambling. 

Madej had been watching him with something of a smile, though it didn’t look judgemental. He shrugged and draped his jacket over the back of the wooden chair Ryan had indicated. “Met a few people. I did have the desk situation explained to me. Over budget and not enough room. I know how it is. I’ll probably end up sharing for awhile, but that’s fine.” 

“Okay, so…” Ryan trailed off. Suddenly unsure of what to say. Unsure why he was nervous. He had worked with people before, it wasn’t a big deal. He took a deep breath. “So,” he repeated, “tell me what you know about the murders.”

Madej smile turned into a smirk. “You mean the murders done by the ‘Lover’?” He even added air quotes. 

“Ugh,” Ryan sat down just so he could bury his head in his hands. “That is the worst name. Some stupid blog came up with it and the mainstream media saw and fucking ran with it. Like, it doesn’t even make sense.” 

That got a quiet little laugh and Ryan forced himself to straighten up, turning the files on his desk towards himself and started flipping through them. He scanned the first couple pages long enough to see that they were Madej’s basic info and case history. He supposed it would probably be a good idea to know what the man was capable of and what he had worked on in the past. 

He glanced up to see that Madej was watching him intently. Unused to such scrutiny, Ryan paused, then flipped the manila file closed abruptly. Madej seemed to take that as his cue and he started talking. 

“I know what I’ve read in the media and some of the gossip I heard around the station in Irvine. There’s been four homicides. The victims are all women between 20 and 30 and pretty, but with no other similar characteristics between. The perp doesn’t seem to care about race, height, weight, hair color, or anything. There doesn’t seem to a pattern in the time of the killings and the locations are all over LA. He kills them with a single stab to the neck, then dresses them in their best clothes and arranges them somewhere so that they almost look like they’re alive.” Madej was staring at him the entire time as he spoke, reciting the facts almost rotely. He barely blinked. “It wasn’t until the third one that someone - you, I’m assuming - figured out that it was the work of a serial killer. There has been no real evidence, and not even a single witness.”

Ryan forced himself to look away from that penetrating stare. “Jeez, when you say it all like that, it sounds pretty bad.”

Madej fell back into the habitual slump that was developed by those over six foot, his mouth twisted into a derisive smirk. “Yeah, murder is bad, man.”

That got a surprised snort out of Ryan, who tried not to let his laugh turn into its usual wheeze. “No, that’s not...Well, yes, obviously, murder is bad. But I meant that it sounds like we haven’t accomplished much. You’ve got most of the facts straight, you’re just missing a lot of tiny details that we’ve managed to keep out of the media’s attention.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you should know how it is. I’ll get you copies of all of the case files, including the newest one.”

“The newest one?” Madej asked, looking surprised. 

“Yeah, that’s why I was late to the station. There’s been five homicides now. A Janet Churchill. She had a roommate that had been out of town for the week.” Ryan couldn’t keep the excitement out of his voice. For the first time, they had a little bit more information. It wasn’t much, but it was the first real piece of evidence they’d gotten. “The roommate came home early and found Churchill. She’d only been dead for a couple of hours. One of the officers first on the scene actually found a possible murder weapon in the building’s dumpster. We’ll have to see what DNA testing says, but if it comes back positive for Churchill’s blood, we’ll know that he killed these women with a paring knife. Which, weird, but whatever.”

Madej blinked. “Weird?”

Ryan waved his hands in an exuberant gesture that even he couldn’t interpret. Finding clues always made him so hyped. “Yeah, that’s not weird to you? Like some guy thinks, ‘I’m gonna kill this woman. Let me just get my fucking paring knife!’”

A slow grin crept over Madej’s face. “You’re right. Do you think he carries it with him? ‘Wallet, keys, phone, oh shoot, nearly forgot the thing I use to peel potatoes.’”

Ryan burst into laughter, loud enough that the officer next to them shot him a disgruntled glare. “Or maybe,” he managed to gasp between laughs, “he always uses the woman’s knife. And then if she doesn’t have one, he has to like...not kill her. Like, ‘goddamnit woman, don’t you cook?’”

Their laughter trailed off, Ryan suddenly making the sober realization that he had been making light of a pretty bad situation. He rubbed at the back of his neck, frowning down at his messy desk. “Sorry, that was kinda insensitive, wasn’t it?”

“Hey,” Madej said, shrugging. “It’s fine, Bergara. Gallows humor is pretty par for the course in Homicide.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ryan said, slumping in his chair. Sometimes he forgot that he was still young in comparison to most detectives. No doubt Madej wasn’t even bothered. From what he had glimpsed in the man’s files, Madej was four years older than him. If he had made detective around the same time as Ryan, he probably had quite a few more cases under his belt. He would be used to the stress. 

Ryan twitched when his cell phone started ringing. He fumbled it out out of his pocket, hoping it was Forensics or the pathologist. “This is Detective Bergara.”

He listened to the dispatcher on the other end, his heart sinking. “What? That doesn’t make any sense. Where? Alright. Keep the scene contained, we’ll be there in a half hour. Yeah. Yeah, thanks.”

“What is it?” Madej asked.

“There’s been another murder,” Ryan replied. Madej stiffened. “It looks like it’s our guy. Guess you’ll be jumping into the deep end of the case, then.”

The crime scene was a half hour away from the station and nearly an hour away from where Churchill had been killed. Ryan spent the entire drive thinking about the oddity of the situation. While there had yet to be a concrete pattern in the -he sighed to himself and gave in to the inevitable- the Lover’s timetable, he had never killed within the same week. Even taking into account the possibility that Churchill had been discovered quicker than intended, it still left a very small time frame. The kind of meticulous planning that went into this style of homicide didn’t leave room for two in one day.

“I’m kind of hoping this is just a regular stabbing,” Ryan muttered, half forgetting that Madej was next to him in the passenger seat. Which was weird, considering that Madej had the limbs of a cranefly and had to fold himself into the seat like it was a puzzle. But the man was amazingly good at being quiet. 

“How come?”

“Well,” Ryan said slowly, trying to feel out his explanation. “If this is the same guy, the Lover, or whatever you want to call him, why two in one night? What changed to make him up the ante like this? One the one hand, it might be good, since there’s more of a chance that he’ll make a mistake and we’ll get some concrete evidence into his identity, but on the other hand…”

“Faster rate of incidence means a lot more women getting murdered.”

“Yeah. I don’t like the idea that this guy is escalating.”

Ryan sighed as he came into view of the house where the scene was at. Squad cars were parked all over the neighborhood, and quite a few people were loitering around the crime scene tape, obviously trying to get a glimpse of something juicy. Ryan parked in the house’s driveway, scowling at the nosy neighbors as he got out of his car and jerked on the suit jacket he’d left in the back seat. 

“So why ‘the Lover’?

Ryan was a bit startled by Madej’s question and tore his eyes from the neighbors towards the detective. “I’m not entirely sure, actually. I think it’s because there’s been no evidence of rape or bodily trauma beyond the single stab wound, and he goes out of his way to dress them in their nicest clothes after death. And he poses them in very, uh, natural ways? Like, Churchill looked like she was watching TV.”

Madej ducked under the tape with him and Ryan almost made a comment about watching the man bend that low, but Madej was already replying. “That doesn’t really scream lover to me, though. More like an artist or something, you know?”

“Yeah, I know,” Ryan said, nodding to the officer that was watching them, flashing the badge at his belt. Madej did the same and the officer waved them into the house. “Or like, the Designer or something. Since he seems to like their clothes?”

Madej scoffed. “What?”

“No, seriously, we’ve never found the clothes the victims were killed in. So like, maybe he’s keeping them as trophies.”

“Maybe he’s a cross dresser.”

Ryan took one look at Madej’s mock serious expression and burst into wheezing giggles. Judging by the scowl that one of the Forensic techs gave him as they passed by, now was not the right time for humor. 

He quickly found that there was nothing to laugh about. As soon as they walked down the hallway of the, by all accounts very nice, house, Ryan was confronted by large dark brown words splashed onto the white wall of the kitchen. 

_I KNOW YOU_

Madej stiffened next to him, then swore softly. “Fucking messages in blood. How cliche.”

Under the words was a small oak table, with a place setting in front of each chair. One chair was empty, but the other held the corpse of a Hispanic woman who would have been beautiful in life. She was wearing a light cottony dress that highlighted her long legs and slim body. Her hands were wrapped around a mug, as if she had just sat down to relax with a cup of coffee or tea. Her head was slumped forward onto her chest.

The slash of the stab wound at her neck was a jarring addition to the scene. 

“Bergara, I told you to keep your pal out of my district.”

Ryan looked away from the victim to see Detective Hayes coming down the hallway towards them. He thrust a box of rubber gloves at them before tossing it to a tech. 

Fumbling a bit as he pulled the tight gloves over his fingers, Ryan sighed. “I think this is actually outside your jurisdiction, Hayes.” He couldn’t help but notice that Madej pulled his own gloves on with surprising ease, considering how large his hands were. 

“Eh,” Hayes dismissed. “Close enough. At least close enough that they called me in. Who’s the new guy?”

“Detective Shane Madej. He’s helping me with the case, since he just transferred from Irvine and he helped with the Johnston murders.”

Hayes waved. “Justin Hayes. I’d shake your hand, but, y’know. Gloves.”

Madej did a little half wave of his own, before turning to Ryan. “I thought you didn’t know my name and you were just too embarrassed to ask.”

Ryan huffed. “I have your file, asshole, and I do know how to read.” He tried not to think about easily he’d fallen into a teasing pattern with a man he’d only met a few hours ago. “Hayes, what can you tell us about the vic? Do we know time of death?”

“Ooh, I love when you use jargon on me. Alright boys, this lovely lady is Maddy Hernandez. She was 20 and a fairly successful model. One of the techs estimated that she died sometime last night, probably around midnight. She was found by her cleaning service about an hour ago.”

“Please tell me she had security cameras in a house this nice?”

“Nope,” Hayes said with an apologetic shrug. “Wouldn’t that have been a lucky break?”

“Yeah,” Ryan breathed, then steeled himself. He took a few steps forward, then bent down to look at the victim from a different angle. Surely if he looked hard enough, he’d find some clue. Anything. “Did anyone find anything in the garbage?”

“Like a convenient murder weapon? No, no luck this time.”

Ryan brushed hair away from Hernandez’ neck, trying to get a closer look at the stab wound. It was more ragged than the others had been, and one dried line of blood dripped from the wound to pool in the woman’s collarbone. He looked up to ask Madej a question and was taken aback at the sheer anger on the man’s face. He would be the first to admit that he was pretty damn angry at the asshole who was running around killing women, but Madej looked like he was a second away from punching a wall.

“Madej?”

The other detective seemed to snap out of it. He grimaced. “Sorry. This is just. It’s wrong.”

“Murder usually is, yeah,” Ryan said absently, tilting his head as something caught his attention. “Huh. That’s odd.”

“What is it?”

“There’s blood on the dress.” 

“That’s different. Do you think it’s the vic’s or our pal’s?” Hayes asked. He was the one that had worked the most with Ryan and he knew just as well how meticulous the killer usually was about keeping the victim’s clothes clean. Hayes had actually been the one to work the first two cases, before it was realized they were the work of a serial killer. 

Ryan peered closer. It was a brown stain just under the collar bone that almost blended in with the pattern on the dress. “It...looks like it belongs to Hernandez. Like, maybe the killer tried to wipe the blood away from her skin but didn’t notice it on the dress? Which, maybe that means he didn’t change her dress?”

“Maybe he thought this was already her best dress?” Madej asked. 

Ryan frowned, straightening to stand. “I don’t know. Who knows what this guy’s preference is. But…”

He thought back to all of the other victims and what they had been wearing when found. Three of them had been wearing long, silky dresses. One had been wearing a tailored black pantsuit and one had been in a skirt and blouse. This was the first time he was seeing something so light and airy. Which didn’t exactly mean much, but something felt off. 

“Madej, I think you’re right. There’s something wrong about this situation.”

Ryan walked back towards the wall where the message had been painted. He touched a line, scrubbing at the blood that flaked away. “This murder was sloppy. Sure, not sloppy compared to most homicides, but in this context? And the perp has never left a message before. And he seems too neat to do it in blood. I think if he did leave a message, it would be a letter. Or hell, even an email.”

Stripping off his gloves, he turned to the other two detectives. He didn’t want to say his quickly formed theory, if only because of what it would mean, but it felt right. He didn’t think he was wrong. “I think this was a copycat. I think we’ve got two killers now.”

“Shit,” Hayes swore, not even bothering to question him. The other detective was well aware of Ryan’s uncannily accurate leaps of intuition. He started walking away and pulled out his cell phone. “I’m gonna call and see if they can send more techs. If there is a new perp, maybe this second guy will be stupid enough to leave evidence.”

Ryan barely heard him. He was too busy being caught by Madej’s eyes, who was staring at him as if he had hung the stars and the moon. As if he was the answer to every question that Madej had ever had. “You’re brilliant,” the man breathed. It was almost a prayer.

Ryan had no idea what to do with that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first time writing in a very long time, so I hope it entertains someone. I plan on updating every couple of days, so check back soon!
> 
> Thanks!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan uses a flimsy excuse.

After a sleepless night that had passed far too slowly, Ryan drug himself into the station, clutching at a cup of coffee like it was a lifeline. 

“You look like shit, Bergara.”

“Shut up, Eugene,” Ryan muttered into his coffee. He nodded at the night secretary, who was busy putting her things away. He still didn’t know her name. 

Detective Yang stood up from his desk as Ryan walked past, shrugging into his jacket. “Heard you got yourself a copycat.”

Ryan paused next to Yang, squinting blearily. “News travels fast, though I don’t think the lab results are back yet. So. Maybe.”

The other detective patted Ryan on the arm in a show of sympathy. “I’d offer to help, but I’ve got four different cases. Two of which Gang and Narcotics are trying to take from me, which is just awesome.” 

“I was wondering why you were still here.”

Yang looked over Ryan’s shoulder. “That the new guy? He looks like a pencil.”

Ryan glanced over his shoulder to see Madej making his way towards them. He couldn’t interpret the expression on the man’s face, but Madej didn’t look happy. “Yeah, we need to stop hiring giants. Didn’t think he’d be in so early.”

Yang smirked. “Don’t be jealous just because you still need a booster seat. See ya, Ryan.”

“Yeah, see ya later, Eugene. You ass.”

Yang gave him a lazy salute and walked away, giving a friendly nod to Madej, who merely stared at him. Huh. Guess Madej wasn’t a morning person either. 

Ryan shuffled towards his own desk, setting down his coffee and his briefcase, turning on his computer, then sort of oozed into his chair. God, he wanted sleep, but he knew he wasn’t going to be able to rest until he had some sort of concrete break through. If there were two serial killers on the loose, the public would become even more terrified and the pressure would only intensify. 

“Good morning.”

Ryan flapped his hand in Madej’s general direction. “Mornin’. You can use Rubin’s desk for now. Her shift doesn’t start til noon.” 

Her heard Madej sit down at the desk next to him and the quiet movements that came from logging into the computer and settling in to the space. He was contemplating checking his email when Madej cleared his throat. 

“So uh, who was that?”

Ryan slanted a glance at Madej, who was focused on the slow process of getting the computer to respond. “Who, Eugene?”

“I guess?”

Ryan shrugged. “That was Detective Yang. He’s been here for awhile, so if you’ve got any questions, or just want to know some shortcuts for procedures and things, he’s the guy to go to.”

“Think I’ll stick with you,” Madej muttered, and, well, Ryan couldn’t help but perk up a little at that. He’d received plenty of praise since he’d made detective, but there had been just as much ribbing and teasing about his age and relative inexperience. All in good fun, sure, but there was something about having an experienced detective prefer his input. It made him feel rather accomplished. “What’re the odds that we’ll have gotten any results from Forensics?”

Ryan glanced at his watch. “At seven in the morning? Not a chance. Actually.” He turned in his chair to face Madej head on. “What are you doing at the station so early?”

Madej rubbed a hand over his face, drawing attention to the dark circles under his eyes. “Couldn’t sleep, figured I’d get in early and work on paper work. There’s still HR stuff that I need to finish.” 

“Well don’t let me stop you from that riveting entertainment.”

Madej raised his eyebrows, then rolled his eyes and turned back towards his computer. Ryan grinned to himself and started on his own paperwork. It felt like being detective involved more filling out forms than it did actual detecting. 

When his phone started buzzing it’s way across his desk, he was shocked to discover that three hours had passed. He answered his phone with a muttered, “Bergara,” then hung up after only a few seconds. 

“Come on, Madej,” he said, standing up and stretching to relieve the kinks in his back. “Time for you to meet our resident pathologist.” He turned just in time to catch the sheer intensity of Madej’s look. “What?”

“What?”

“I asked you first.”

Madej closed his eyes in exasperation. “What are you, ten?”

“On a scale of ten, yes.”

Madej’s mouth twitched as he stood up to follow him, but he managed to keep a straight face. “I’m beginning to regret my decision to transfer. Come on, lead the way. I’m assuming they’ve got some results?”

“Yeah, Jess said she’s done with both of yesterday’s bodies.”

“So soon?”

Ryan smiled, “Yeah, you’ll see when you meet her. If she gets obsessed with something, she doesn’t let it go. And this serial killer has caught her interest.”

“That’s…” Madej blinked. “That sounds a little ominous.”

“Nah, she’s good people,” Ryan said, leading the way through a pair of doors. Unlike most, this specific station didn’t put it’s morgue in a basement. It was just a different side of the building. He’d heard more than one medical examiner complain, since it meant that more air conditioning needed to be ran to keep the bodies cool. Ryan tried not to think about the horror stories he’d heard of full morgues in southern California and no electricity. 

“Jess! I heard you’ve got bodies for me,” Ryan yelled as they walked into the large room. The various computers, exam tables, and equipment truthfully looked like something out of a horror movie. It made his stomach churn. He’d long ago gotten used to it, but he didn’t have to like it. He pasted a grin onto his face as Jessica Schmidt looked up from her computer. She pushed away from her computer, the wheels of her chair making a screech that perfectly matched her annoyed expression. 

“Christ, Bergara, is it impossible for you to have any respect for the dead?” Jessica smoothly stood, her long blonde hair swaying forward with the movement. She was drop dead gorgeous, pun intended, and Ryan wasn’t sure why she had chosen cutting up bodies as a career. Even he was tempted to do anything she asked and she wasn’t exactly his type. She’d have made a killing as an actress or model.

“As much respect as you do, Jess.” The familiar banter kept the squirming feeling of fear down. He twisted slightly to indicate Madej, who was standing behind him with an oddly closed off expression. “This is Detective Madej, he just transferred from Irvine.”

Jess’ eyebrow rose, then gave them a cutting smile. “Shane.”

“Jessica.”

“Thrilled to see you here.”

Ryan looked back and forth between the two, taking in the awkward positions, the stilted words, and carefully stepped away from the line of fire. He put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Alright, I’m sensing something here. Call it a feeling. I take it you two know each other?”

“You could say that,” Jess said. There was a world of history in those few words, but thankfully she seemed content to leave it at that. Ryan didn’t particularly want to witness an argument between exes, or whatever they were, this early in the day. “Come on, I finished the autopsy on Hernandez. Don’t touch, we’re nearly out of gloves and won’t get any for a couple days.” 

Jess led the way to the back of the room, where two bodies were laid out under sheets on exam tables. Her hips swayed under her lab coat like she was a runway model. Ryan quietly elbowed Madej, then tilted his head towards her, waggling his eyebrows in an overly ridiculous manner. Madej dropped the closed off expression and rolled his eyes. 

“Reynolds handled Churchill, so you’ll have to be content with looking at his notes if you have any questions, but I can give you a quick summary,” Jess said as she rolled on gloves, then flipped the sheets back on both bodies. 

Carefully putting his hands in his pockets so that he wouldn’t be tempted to touch the bodies, Ryan absently asked, “The coroner got involved in this? I thought he was too busy for actual exams.”

Jessica huffed. “For the biggest case this precinct has ever had, you can bet he’ll get his slimy hands on my corpses. He’s already messed up my filing.”

“You’re a weird woman, Schmidt. Tell me what you managed to get on Hernandez.”

Turning the dead woman’s head without a single ounce of hesitation, Jessica pointed at the ragged incision at her neck. “First thing I can tell you is that this wasn’t the perp’s normal murder weapon. The edges aren’t smooth enough to match the previous cases, and if the paring knife that was found ends up being what killed Churchill, then we’ll know for sure. I’d guess it was a steak knife, or a blade with teeth, that got this lady here.” Jessica easily hauled the corpse onto its side, pointing to discolorations on the opposite shoulder. 

Ryan was glad that she was strong enough to do it. Not only because she’d kill him if he ever implied that she needed a man’s help, but also because he really didn’t want to touch the body. He was doing well so far, but the nauseating reality of the morgue room always hit him harder than a crime scene ever did. 

“If you look closely here, you’ll see a bruise pattern that could be indicative of someone grabbing her, maybe forcing her to sit down. Or it could just be a bruise. It’s really impossible to tell. But it’s the first time we’ve seen any evidence of trauma on a victim.”

Ryan leaned forward, biting his lower lip in contemplation as he eyed the angle of the stab wound on Hernandez, then compared it to the one on Churchill. There was faint marks on the opposite side of the neck. He wasn't sure what else could have left them other than hands. “Nothing else?”

“Nope. Beyond the different weapon and the bruise on Hernandez, these two are the same as all of the others. No evidence of trauma, sexual or otherwise. This douche is a murdering asshole, but I guess at least he’s not a pervert.” Jess narrowed her eyes at Madej, looking at him for the first time since they’d started looking at the bodies. The man only sighed softly. 

Ryan ignored their byplay, more interested in the tiny wriggling thought that was trying to push its way to the forefront than whatever issues they had. There was...something. Something that he just knew he could put together if he looked at it long enough. “The toxicology report?”

“The toxicology report shows that the only thing in their systems was some alcohol. Which I suppose does support your theory that he’s picking these women up at bars.”

Madej shifted next to him, “Bars? I hadn’t heard that theory.”

“Well, it’s not one I’ve fully fleshed out yet, so I haven’t presented it to anyone yet, except Jess.” Ryan pointed to Hernandez. “Other than her, all of the victims have been over 21. If he’s picking them up randomly at bars, or meeting them over Tinder or something to then go to a bar, it would explain why there hasn’t been any suspects yet that have ties to more than one victim. And if Hernandez was killed by a copycat, it would actually help cement my theory. Everyone is so focused on the seeming disparities of the victims that they didn’t stop to look at their age.”

He heard Madej start to respond, but something clicked in his head. Ryan looked up at Jess, then Madej, narrowing his eyes in thought. “Jess, how tall is Churchill?”

“Uh,” Jess quickly stripped off one glove to grab the chart that was laying on a small table. “5’6.”

“And Hernandez?”

“6’0.”

That was tall for a woman. Even Jess, with her model-esque proportions wasn’t that tall. Hell, it was taller than him. 

And the angle was _off_. 

Knowing that it wouldn’t hold up in court, but needing to see the physical evidence for himself, Ryan grabbed a pen from a desk then marched back to Madej to hand it to him. “Are you right handed or left handed?

“What? Uh, right handed.”

“I need you to stab me.”

Madej blinked down at him. “What?” he repeated.

“Don’t like, actually stab me or anything, because God knows where that pen has been, but I need you to do an overhand strike, at my neck, and mark where the pen lands. The stab is always on the right side of the neck. I’m hoping this will clear something up.”

Madej stared, something glittering in his eyes. An abrupt feeling of caution stole over Ryan, but he ignored it. Madej leaned towards him, left hand coming up to grasp Ryan’s upper arm. “I think I see where you’re going, but shouldn’t I be doing this with Jessica?”

Ryan ducked his head, glad for the excuse to look away, and muttered, “Look, you two obviously have some bad blood between you. This is just a visual to help me figure stuff out, I’m not expecting it to solve anything, so I don’t need you two being any more uncomfortable.”

That got him a gentle squeeze of the arm, probably in thanks. “Plus,” he found himself grudgingly admitting, “She’s taller than me. I’m closer to the average height of the victims.”

A sudden sly grin from Madej nearly made Ryan step back. “Well, I wasn’t going to say anything, but yes, you are kind of short.”

“Oh shut the fuck up and stab me.”

Madej let out a gentle huff of laughter, using the grip on his arm to face Ryan away from the other detective. He pulled Ryan back until his back met the man’s chest. Madej brandished the pen with a dramatic flourish, and Ryan focused on that out of the corner of his eye, rather than think about the warmth behind him or the fact that Madej was tall enough that he could have tucked Ryan’s head under his chin.

There was the sharp drag of pen on skin at the side of his neck. Ryan let out a slow breath, trying not to show the tingles that the feeling elicited. 

_Jesus_ , he thought to himself. _I really need to get laid._

A brief, weirdly tense, moment passed, where he wondered if Madej was actually going to let him go, or if the man was just going to hold on to him like that for the rest of the day. A warm breath stirred the hair on top of his head, then Madej stepped away. 

Ryan looked up in time to see the sharp, downright murderous glare that Jess was sending over his head at Madej. Choosing life, he decided to ignore that. Now was so not the time to get caught in a personal spat. He took out his phone, then handed it to Madej. “Get a picture so I can look at it clearly. Mirror won’t really help. 

Madej nodded, giving him the pen, then taking a couple of quick pictures at different angles. Ryan took his phone back, then spun on his feet towards Jess. “My favorite medical examiner! How would you like to stab me?”

Jess smirked, the previous glare apparently forgotten. “Oh, I would love to, you have no idea. Get your tiny ass over here.”

Ryan gasped, even as he complied. “Tiny? How dare you? My ass is perfect.”

“Uh huh. So, do you really think this will help you?” Jess moved behind him, her elbow coming up at an awkward angle to drive the pen at his neck. Even though he couldn’t see her, he could feel how she had to switch her grip on the pen to get it to perform a smooth strike. He thought maybe she scraped the line of ink across his skin a little harder than necessary, but he didn’t jerk away. He did scowl at her over his shoulder. 

“I’m hoping so? I already have a theory, and there’s frankly just too many variables at play to get a concrete idea, but maybe this will give me a good visual to work with. Like I said, I don’t exactly expect ‘I let my coworkers stab me with a pen’ to hold up in court, but maybe it will lead me to something.”

“Or you’re just making an ass of yourself,” Jess said, accepting his phone to take a couple pictures of the new mark. 

“Like that’s new.” Ryan pulled a chair away from one of the medical examiner’s desks, sat on it, then tilted his head back to grin at Jess. “Once again, Dr. Schmidt.”

There was the smallest hesitation, then the woman laughed and once again pretended to stab him in the neck. He could already feel how sitting down made it both easier for her to make the motion smooth, and changed the trajectory by a significant amount. Where before the movement had been parallel to his shoulder, this one came at almost a ninety degree angle. Jess made this mark bigger, then took another couple of pictures without prompting. 

Ryan leaned back in the chair, flipping back and forth between the pictures. They were close enough to identical that by the third mark, he just had a scribble of ink lines on his neck. But there were differences. Nothing that he could use to prove a suspect, but something to definitely keep in mind. 

“Alright,” he said half to himself, talking outloud to work his way through his idea. “Not unless the perp always stabs them while they’re sitting down, we can be fairly certain the guy is tall. Like, really tall, not just six foot. And, taking from that, the second killer is a lot shorter, and in fact had to push Hernandez down. Maybe she struggled and that’s why the bruising on her opposite shoulder?”

“What if the first guy is left handed and stabbing them from the front?”

“That…” Ryan bit his lip, thinking about what Madej had said. He was a little surprised that Madej had even been paying attention. The man was staring at Hernandez with a melancholy air. “That’s a possibility, definitely. But statistics says it’s unlikely, just from how small the left handed population is. Though I wouldn’t rule it out.”

He ran his fingers through his hair, tugging at the ends in annoyance. “I know this is just baseless conjecture, but it...it feels right.”

Jess looked up at the ceiling, as if praying for patience. “You and your feelings, Bergara. So possible height not withstanding, you’re pretty sure we’ve got two killers on the loose now?”

Ryan gestured at the two bodies, the poor women who had become nothing more than props in a police station morgue. “At first glance, yeah, it looks like the same person murdered them. But come on, Jess. You’re the best medical examiner I know. Can you really tell me you think this was one person? In comparison to the rest, Hernandez’ death is almost sloppy. Between the bruise, the ragged wound, and lets not forget the message in blood, which the perp has never done before.”

Jess frowned, glaring at the floor. Was she embarrassed? “I don’t know, maybe he was rushed because he was doing two in one night? Maybe he wants more attention?”

Ryan raised an eyebrow at her. She finally relented, throwing her hands up in a gesture of exasperation. “Ugh, fine, Mr. Know-It-All Bergara, in my professional opinion, these two were killed by different people. I’m sorry if I didn’t want to think that there were two assholes running around murdering people.”

Ryan grinned and sprung to his feet. “That’s _Detective_ Know-It-All Bergara, thank you very much. Come on Madej, lets go over all the suspects again and focus on the ones over six feet.”

Madej made his way towards Ryan, barely acknowledging Jess long enough to give her a farewell nod as they left the morgue. “I can’t help but feel like you’re being prejudiced towards tall people.”

“Don’t worry, Madej. I’ll warn you if the local villagers decide to torch your Bigfoot ass.”

Madej paused, a slow smile spreading over his face. “You’d warn me, Bergara?”

Ryan snickered, then clapped his hand on Madej’s upper arm. “Of course. We’re pretty much partners now.”

The smile became incandescent. “You really are something.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the wonderful comments and kudos. Hopefully this continues to entertain!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Ryan needs to learn to wait for backup.

After a full week with no further progress, Ryan was about ready to change his name and run away somewhere tropical. Maybe Cancun. He wasn’t actually sure where Cancun was, but it would be easy enough to learn. 

Rather than try to run himself ragged, he was focused on the first killer, giving investigation of the copycat to Hayes. Everyone was hoping that Hernandez had been killed by someone she knew, who had taken the opportunity to try and blame her death on the Lover. With that in mind, Hayes would be able to stick to the suspects that were only related to her case. 

Unfortunately, that meant that Ryan and Madej had to go through every suspect over a certain height from all of the previous murders. And since five homicides generated quite a few suspects, it had been like slogging through mud to re-verify possible motive, opportunity, and alibis. 

It didn’t help that Madej was new to the case. Ryan didn’t blame him in the slightest, as the ever present dark circles under his eyes were ample proof to how hard the man was working to catch up on all of the information, but it still turned the already slow process into something agonizing. 

The mounting stress as the week passed wasn’t helped by the realization that with each passing day, it was more and more likely that another woman would be murdered.

It was a little past noon and he was in the middle of trying to track down the brother of the first victim, who had a history of jail time. He was also 6’2. But the parole officer on the other end of the line was giving him the runaround. Ryan was generally a laid back guy, but at the moment he just wanted to reach through the phone and strangle the officer. 

A large cup of coffee was suddenly set directly in front of his hand, right on the paper he was reading from. He looked up to see Madej’s small smile. He tucked his phone between his ear and his shoulder and mouthed a quick thank you. He took a sip, the burst of coffee and maybe cinnamon giving him a boost of energy. It enabled him to keep his voice level as he interrupted the filibustering officer. “Look, sir, I don’t really care if you’ve been letting Andretti slide on his parole. I just need to know the facts. Like I’ve already said. Yeah, well, I don’t think Andretti is the Lover either, but I’d rather be sure. Do you want to be known as the officer that let a serial killer stay free? Yeah, didn’t think so. Uh huh. Yeah. No, you can email the details to the precinct, care of Bergara. Yes, that’s a B. Yeah, thank you.”

Ryan turned off his phone, gently sat it down on his desk, then smacked his head down on the hard wood. “Fuck,” he groaned. “I’m so goddamn tired of beat cops thinking I’m trying to get them in trouble.”

“Well, that did sound a little bit like a threat at the end there, shortstack.”

Ryan flipped off Madej without looking. He drug himself back into an upright position, taking another sip of his drink. “Actually, I take back that fuck off, I think I love you.”

“I’d say the same, but I get the feeling you were talking to the coffee and not me.”

Ryan slanted a glance towards Madej, grinning around the cup. “I don’t question your love of weird food, don’t question my incredibly logical love of caffeine. And coffee that isn’t the paint thinner in the break room, which again, thank you. Did you put cinnamon in this?”

“Yeah, surprised you noticed. Thought you could use something extra after the week we’ve had.” 

“Ugh. Yeah. Thanks.” Ryan stretched backwards in his chair and decided to give in and take his tie off. He didn’t plan on going anywhere today.

“Bergara, Madej, Boss wants you to check your email. He said there’s something you need to look at.” 

Ryan jumped as a curly haired woman popped up next to them. “Fuck, Rubin, you scared the hell out of me.”

The woman grinned impishly at him. “Not my fault if you’re not paying attention. Shane, clear off, its my desk now.”

Madej smiled rather warmly at her, gathering his papers, pens, and the laptop that the station had issued him. “Sara, one of these days the desk will stay mine.”

“Nope. Seniority, fucker” Rubin exclaimed, settling down at the newly vacated desk like she owned the thing and not the precinct. 

Ryan moved his own stuff to the side in a practiced shuffle that had become commonplace in the past few days. He waited until Madej had sat across from him, then met the man’s eye. He very pointedly looked at Rubin, then back to Madej, then raised an eyebrow. 

Madej rolled his eyes, then just as pointedly shook his head. Ryan grinned, but let it go as he turned towards his computer and brought up his work email. He figured it was his duty to tease Madej. Rubin was a wonderful, funny woman, and a great detective. Madej could do a lot worse. He carefully pushed away any feelings of disappointment. Now wasn’t the time. 

There was a few new emails in his inbox, but the one that caught his attention was from an email address that was just a string of numbers. It was directed to him, but CC'd to Chief Flores, and Detectives Hayes and Madej. Curiosity piqued, he clicked on it.

_Detective Bergara,_

_I was quite thrilled to see that the charlatan aping my style was not able to pull the wool over your eyes._

_I do love watching you when I have the chance._

_Don’t worry for your safety. I enjoy playing with you too much._

_As a token of my esteem, here is a little clue. Time is of the essence._

_115 Vinton. 302._

_Cordially,_

_The Lover_

Ryan could feel his eyes widen so far that it hurt. Was this this some sort of prank? There were plenty of people that sent letters and emails to the police department, claiming to be the killer, but they never came to his work email. There was even a completely different department that handled this kind of thing, and would alert Ryan if they found anything worthwhile. Never before had he had something sent so directly to him. 

“Madej,” he whispered, looking up to see that Madej was staring at his laptop. “Are...did you see this email?”

“Yeah. Is-well. I mean, do you think it’s real?”

Ryan jerked his eyes away from the screen and stumbled to his feet. “We need to talk to the Chief,” he yelled over his shoulder. He sprinted down the aisles of desks, dodging officers and visitors. He rounded the partition and skidded to stop in front of the secretary. 

“Mary, is the Chief free?”

She nodded at him, wide-eyed at his sudden, flustered appearance. “Yeah, he’s waiting for you.”

Ryan didn’t even give her time to finish. He was already at the door by the time she’d started speaking. He stumbled into Flores’ office, talking so fast that his words were stumbling over themselves. “Sir, I know you saw that email? Do you think it’s real? Has it gone to IT yet? Is that an address? If it is real, we need to go now.”

“Calm down, Bergara,” Flores said, barely sparing him a glance. Ryan suddenly realized the man was already on the phone. “Dispatch, send three units to 115 Vinton Ave. It’s an apartment building. Make sure to get ahold of the building management and get access to 302. Detectives Begara and Madej will be on the way.”

Flores hung up without waiting for an answer. 

“Sir, we don’t have a warrant…”

“Let me worry about the warrant, Bergara. If this is actually the Lover, we don’t have time to waste. Vinton is in Culver City. Take a squad car.”

Ryan stared at him. The Chief usually wasn’t this fast in his actions. 

“Now, Bergara!”

Ryan gulped and spun, crashing into Madej, who grabbed him before he could fall over. The taller man set him upright with a surprising show of strength. “Go, Ryan, I’m right behind you.”

The drive to Culver City was nightmarish. LA traffic was always terrible and the flashing lights of the squad car barely made a difference. They screeched to a halt in front of a three story apartment building. It was a brownstone and old. Three other squad cars were parked around the area, with one officer standing next to them. The man waved at them. 

“The owner is on his way and we tried to spread out to cover all of the exits, but we don’t know if we got them all.”

Ryan stuttered out a thanks as he took off running into the building, looking frantically around for stairs. He ignored the sound of Madej swearing behind him. “Damn it, Bergara, wait for backup!”

He spotted the entrance to the stairs and slammed into the door, knowing he’d bruise later but not caring in the slightest. He tore up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He made it to the the third floor and cast around wildly, looking for room numbers. He needn’t have bothered though, because the door to 302 was already open. 

Ryan gulped down a deep breath, then drew his gun. It wasn’t the first time he’d had to pull his piece, but he didn’t think he would ever get used to it. He side stepped down the hallway, comforted by Madej’s presence at his back. 

When he reached the edge of the open door, he looked over his shoulder at Madej. At the man’s nod, he spun into the room, shouting, “LAPD! Come out with your hands on your head!”

It was a small but tidy apartment, the front door opening up into a living room that barely fit a couch and a tv. Out of the corner of his eye he could see bright red letters on the far wall. 

There was the sound of something dropping, then a harsh breath. 

Ryan edged forward, then swiftly turned around a short wall, gun leading. What he saw was a tiny kitchen, and on the floor was a short, heavy-set man cradling a woman. Blood oozed down her neck to soak into her T-shirt. Her eyes gazed unseeing at the ceiling.

Ryan’s heart tripped. 

“Put her down! Stand up with your hands on your head! You’re under arrest.”

The suspect blinked up at him, seeming to just now notice their presence. Blood coated his fingers. Tears were streaming down his face. “What? I...No, no, it wasn’t me.”

“Stand up with your hands on your head,” Ryan repeated, gun steady even though his hands were starting to sweat. 

The man’s face twisted as he looked down at the body in his arms. He let it slip gently to the floor; his expression turned to one of dawning fear. “No...No, I...I can’t.”

Suddenly the man surged to his feet, charging like a bull at Ryan. The kitchen was too small and the man moved faster than anticipated. Ryan instinctively squeezed his finger around the trigger of his gun, but the shot missed the charging man by a bare inch. He heard a second gunshot go off. The man didn’t hesitate at the noise, he just kept coming. Ryan dodged to the side, managing to avoid the blood soaked man’s swing, but the action made him trip and fall into the corner of the wall, the force jarring the gun from his hand. 

“I won’t go back!” the man yelled, lunging back into the kitchen with an awkward stumble and scrambling around in the closest drawer until he found a butcher knife. 

Dimly, Ryan could hear Madej shouting into a radio. “Shots fired, shots fired! Suspect is armed!”

The man seemed focused on Ryan, despite the fact that Madej was the one that still had a gun. In the small apartment, it only took two strides for the man to make it to Ryan, his arm pulled back for a stab. 

Another shot, and the man jerked. Blood bloomed on his shoulder. Unfortunately for Ryan, it wasn’t the shoulder of the arm holding the knife. He was heavily padded in fat and muscle and it didn’t take long for him to gather himself and stab at Ryan. Ryan twisted to the side and caught the man’s arm with both of his hands. Normally Ryan could have stopped him easily, but the man was fueled by desperation and it took all of his strength just to stop him. Muscles strained and Ryan managed to tilt the knife to the side. 

Another shot and the man grunted. Blood sprayed across Ryan’s face, dripping warm and wet down his skin. He jerked back, the sudden movement making the suspect trip and fall to the side, ramming the knife into the wall next to Ryan. 

The fight seemed to drain out of him at the loss of his weapon, and the man fell to his knees, panting harshly. Hands visibly shaking, he brought his hands up to his collarbone, trying to stop the bleeding from the new bullet wound. “It wasn’t me,” he kept mumbling. 

Working automatically, Ryan seized the suspect’s arms while he was in shock and forced him down, kneeling on his back to cuff him, ignoring the whimpering, pained breaths. 

As soon as he stood up, Madej roughly pulled him forward without bothering to holster his gun. The detective put Ryan at arm’s length to look him over. “Fuck, Bergara, don’t do ever do that to me again. Are you alright? He didn’t get you, did he?”

Ryan looked down at the spray of blood that dotted his shirt. He felt numb and jittery at the same time. “I...I’m fine. This isn’t mine. Did-Did you hit an artery?” Distantly he realized that’d be bad. They needed to question the suspect, and they couldn’t do that if he bled out. 

Madej looked over at the still moaning man and glared. He seemed positively murderous for a moment, like he was a second away from putting another bullet between the man’s eyes. “He’ll be fine, it was just the shoulder and upper chest. I’m more worried about you.” He turned towards Ryan. His expression softened to the point that it would have been comical if Ryan had been more coherent. His eyes, pupils dilated to the point that they were almost completely black, darted all around Ryan’s face, tracking the spots of blood that were beginning to congeal on his skin. 

Slowly, gently, he reached up and wiped a streak of blood away from Ryan’s eyebrow. 

“Don’t,” Ryan said softly.”You’ll stain your clothes.”

“Ryan, I don’t care about bloodstains. And I really don’t think you want that getting into your eyes. Who knows what weird diseases he has. You should wash your face.” 

Somehow, Ryan managed to dredge up a smile. “Shane,” he dared, and was rewarded with an answering smile. “I don't think I can. I think my face might be evidence now.”

Madej stared at him blankly for a second, then started laughing. He bent down until he could rest his forehead on Ryan’s shoulder. “For fuck’s sake, you’re such an idiot.”

Over Madej’s head, Ryan could make out the still dripping words that adorned the living room wall. It was a longer message this time.

_Hes not good enough 4 U._

They stayed huddled together until they could hear their late backup making their way down the hall. Ryan didn’t take his eyes off the bloody words for a very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little shorter of an update, but action-packed!
> 
> Thank you once again for the kind and excited words! I've actually decided not to reply individually because it would be way too easy for me to spoil something. 
> 
> I am sincerely glad people are enjoying this. It warms the cockles of my heart.


	4. Chapter 4

“He’s not our murderer.”

Ryan slapped Bryan Smith’s files down with more force than necessary, then fell into his chair, slouching into a petulant slump. Between the fading bruises and the late hour, even his bones felt tired. “Even if he did kill Wright, which doesn’t seem likely, he has an airtight alibi for all but one of the Lover’s murders.”

Shane looked up at him over his glasses, then raised an eyebrow. “Any chance he’s lying?”

Five days after the incident in Culver City, Shane was finally off the required paid leave, and Ryan couldn’t have been more thrilled. A week of working the case with only Hayes had been frustrating. He was grateful that Shane had shot Smith, but God, the policy that required any officer go through mandatory leave and therapy after shooting a suspect was really annoying, sometimes. 

“No, he’s a cashier at Walmart. There’s security cameras that prove his location during most of the suspected TOAs. The only one he doesn’t have an alibi for is the first one, and we don’t actually know the time of death for her.” 

“So why did he attack us?”

Ryan flipped open the manila file. He also pointedly ignored his jealousy at how good Shane looked in glasses. When _he_ wore glasses, he just looked like a dork. “Smith has quite an arrest record. All minor things, mostly drug possession, but I guess he knew how bad it looked.”

Shane furrowed his brows. “Well yeah, but attacking _cops_ doesn’t exactly scream innocence. I don’t care how high you are.”

“Yeah, I think he’s a few tools short of a full shed.”

Shane snickered. “He what? Where’d you get that gem?”

“Oh my God. Seriously? How have you not heard that one?” Ryan put up his hand, forestalling Shane’s answer. “Nevermind. Were you able to get any new info about Wright?”

Shane’s smile faded. “Nothing that you didn’t already get while I was on leave. Twenty-three, in between jobs. She was Smith’s on-again off-again girlfriend, from what her family says. If we’re sure Smith didn’t kill her, then it looks like he might have interrupted the perp before he could finish all of his, uh, preparations.”

“Yeah,” Ryan said, nodding. “That’s pretty much what Smith said. He wanted to visit Wright to beg forgiveness or something, and when he knocked on the door, someone hit him with it so hard that he was too dazed to chase after them.”

“Any idea what the words were about?”

“Well, it's pig’s blood, for one thing. So we’ve put out a BOLO for people suddenly buying large amounts of blood. Which is difficult, since a lot of ethnicities use it in cooking. But uh,” Ryan hesitated. He rubbed at the back of his neck. “So I’ve got a hunch.”

“Uh huh. Is this is the same hunch that says the break room is haunted?”

“Shut up, Madej. I’m serious.”

“You were serious about the break room, too. But alright, I’ll bite.” Shane leaned back in his chair, making a ‘get on with it’ gesture. 

Ryan glanced at the few busy desks around them, and hunched forward. His words were nearly a whisper. “We’re pretty sure that Wright’s murder was done by the copycat, right? I mean, the weird email pointing us at her, the fact that the only two murders with messages in blood were done with a slightly different MO. It points to those two being done by someone other than the Lover. So, what if the copycat is a woman?”

Shane tilted his head, the faint suggestion of smile playing across his lips, but he didn’t interrupt, so Ryan kept going. 

“We always assume that serial killers are men, right? And I’m pretty sure the Lover is. I’m sure Jess would say I’m being sexist, but there’s something pretty masculine about how he kills and poses them.” Shane straightened, but kept quiet. “However, something feels very...personal about Wright and Hernandez’ deaths. Not personal to them, I think, but personal to the Lover? Maybe. Anyways, when women kill it’s usually more passionate. Women can be as equally as vicious as men, but there’s usually a reason behind it, not just because they can.”

Shane let out a long breath. “It’s definitely a theory. Though I wouldn’t stake everything on it.”

Ryan shook his head, “No, of course not, I’m not new. I know not to get married to a specific theory just because I like it. But, think of the blood messages. ‘I know you’ was obviously a message to the Lover. Does that mean the copycat knows who it is? Or is it a more esoteric, ‘I feel like I know you’ message? If we assume it was a-a warning, to the Lover, then it turns ‘He isn’t good enough for you’ into a text message from a jealous ex.”

Shane blinked, and then laughed. “My God, with how they spelled it, it really is a text message.”

“I know! I don’t know which is worse, serial killers arguing on crime scene walls or the copy cat doesn’t know how to plan and ran out of blood, so they couldn’t spell out the words.”

“‘Oh damn it, this isn’t going to get my message across. Why didn’t I buy the two for one pig’s blood?’”

Ryan stared, trying to keep a straight face, but the urge to giggle made his lips twitch. “God, you’re weird.” A faint wheeze escaped him, which made Shane smile, which led to him laughing like a loon. 

Taking a deep breath to try and calm down his laughing fit, he smiled at Shane, probably more fondly than he meant to. “I’m guessing that the copycat is obsessed with the Lover and they know each other. That would explain the blood messages and the email that very nearly led us to capturing the copycat. The Lover is clearly mad that someone is copying his work and not doing as good of a job.”

“You’re amazing,” Shane said simply, his own expression almost serene. 

Ryan had quickly grown used to the style of banter that had sprung up between him and his new partner. It was almost peaceful to have a conversation partner that could sling back friendly insults just as fast as him, and who had a sense of humor that so easily matched his own. 

Once in awhile, though, Shane would hit him with a completely serious compliment, usually after Ryan had just made some sort of observation. He still wasn’t sure how to react to such open, honest admiration. 

Especially from a straight man.

He looked down at his desk, hoping the warmth in his cheeks wasn’t noticeable. “Ah. Sure. Um. So, I’m going to bring this theory up to Hayes and the Chief, see what they think of it.”

“Have you told Schmidt?”

“Jess? No, since I feel like I shouldn't bias her towards one theory or another when she’s going over the bodies. It's also why I haven’t mentioned it to any of the Forensics techs.”

Shane looked unusually serious as he nodded. “Yeah. That’s probably a good idea. Maybe keep it to the detectives.”

Ryan’s phone buzzed twice, interrupting them. It was a text message. Since it was nearly eight in the morning, he furrowed his brows. His family and friends rarely texted him so early. Hoping it wasn’t an emergency, he swiped his finger across the screen. 

He thought his heart stopped. 

It was a message from Chief Flores, which was terrifying enough by itself. But the short text, ‘Check your email,’ nearly made him whimper out loud. 

Ignoring Shane’s concerned look, he slowly clicked around his computer, bringing up his email. 

Right there at the top was a new message. The sender was a random string of numbers. This time there was a file attached. 

“Ryan? What is it?”

“New email,” Ryan said through numb lips. Shane sent him an puzzled look, then quickly turned to his own laptop. “There’s a picture.”

It was a picture of Ryan, obviously a screenshot from a news program. It was a little blurry and pixelated, but there was no mistaking the scene. It was from a video that had been taken by a lucky reporter that had somehow managed to reach Wright’s apartment just as they had been taking Smith outside. 

In the photo, Ryan looked particularly imposing. The dried blood on his face and the fierce scowl almost made him a stranger, even to his own eyes. 

The text that accompanied the photo was disconcerting, to say the least. 

_Ryan_

_You looked particularly beautiful with blood on you._

_I’ve never played with a man before, but you made me curious. He reminded me of you._

_He wasn’t right. He was too pretty, and it was wrong._

_Despite your fear, I’m still a gentleman, no matter my quarry._

_I wonder what you would be like? Shall we find out?  
Yours,_

_Lover_

Ryan dragged in a harsh breath, suddenly realizing that he hadn’t been breathing. Dimly, he could hear Shane calling his name. Air stuttered out of him as he tried to force himself to calm down. “What the fuck,” he whispered. “What the fuck does any of that mean? Fuck, does he know?”

A warm hand wrapped around the back of his neck. The touch grounded him. He focused on the feeling of a smooth palm and rough-skinned fingers, squeezing gently. He looked up to find that Shane was kneeling next to him. He hadn’t even realized the other man had left his chair. 

“Ryan, take a deep breath. You’re fine, you’re safe.”

Abruptly aware that he was a moment away from throwing a fit in the middle of the squad room, he ducked away from Shane’s hand, gasping in breath as quietly as he could. The oxygen seemed to burn going down his throat. His glance skittered around the room to see who could have witnessed that shameful display. He relaxed when he realized that the room was half empty and the only person who might have seen anything was Yang. The detective was very pointedly filling out paperwork. Which was embarassing, but he was thankful that Yang was giving him some form of plausible deniability. 

Unlike Shane, who had risen to his feet and was hovering over Ryan like he thought the man was going to faint.

“I’m fine,” Ryan lied between gritted teeth. He narrowed his eyes at Shane until the man lifted his hands in a placating gesture. 

“What do you think it means?” Shane asked after a long awkward moment. He slowly sat back down. 

Ryan frowned, pushing away the panic, terror, and shame. He knew he would have to deal with it later, but it was better to do so in the privacy of his home. The email sat on his computer, the words taunting him. _He reminded me of you._

What _did_ that mean?

It didn’t take long for him to make a guess. 

Distantly, he marveled at the fact that his fingers didn’t shake as he reached for his desk phone. He ignored Shane saying his name, even as he pressed for dispatch. 

“This is Detective Ryan Bergara at Precinct 15.” His voice was level, smooth. “I’m requesting to be informed of any Asian male homicide victims in their mid-twenties for the next month. Specifically in cases where the murder weapon is a knife.”

Shane went still across from him.

Ryan listened to the man on dispatch repeat the information back to him. He murmured his thanks, hung up gently, and stared unseeing at the surface of his desk.

“That could be a lot of incidences, you know.” 

Shane’s soft voice startled him out of his stupor, and he reached for his computer mouse, clicking away from his email with a deliberate finality. He would need to submit paperwork for a change in victim profile and he might as well get started on it. 

“Ryan.”

He looked up. Met soft brown eyes. “I’m alright,” he said. He didn’t think he was convincing anyone, but appearances had to be kept. “I mean, a serial killer is apparently focused on me and essentially just told me that he killed a man that looked like me, so that man’s death is my fault, but no, yeah, I’m fine.” 

Okay, so, he maybe he wasn’t as calm as he was trying so desperately to pretend. 

Shane’s eyebrows rose, obviously taken aback. “That-No. Ryan, we don’t even know if he’s killed anyone new yet. And well, even if he did, that’s on him, not you. Don’t blame yourself for what some sociopath does.” 

Fingers clenched into a fist without his conscious decision. A curl of anger threaded into his voice. “What, you’re saying that if, like, Hayes was the lead detective, we’d have to worry about short, blonde men being targeted?” 

Shane’s face twisted like he’d bit a lemon, but he nodded. “Something like that. We can’t actually know what this guy is thinking. Don’t borrow trouble.”

Ryan scoffed bitterly. “‘Borrow trouble’. Fuck. Fuck this asshole.” He shoved back from his desk and stood, for once feeling like he was towering over Shane. “I’m taking a break, Madej. Go home. It’s late.”

He walked stiffly out of the squad room, thoughts a twisting mire. 

Not even an hour later, a body was found. 

\----------------------------------

 

Ryan looked into the slack face of Daniel Nguyen and tried not to vomit. 

The poor man had been found in his West Hollywood apartment by a neighbor that had noticed the door was ajar. There was a clue there, Ryan was sure, but most of his willpower was focused on not turning into the stereotypical rookie that barfed on the body. 

Nguyen was reclined on his bed, dressed in an expensive three piece suit like he had decided to take a moment’s rest before going to a formal party. A black silk tie was in his hands and it didn’t take much to guess that the Lover had forgone putting the tie around his neck because it would obscure the stab wound in his neck. 

While it wasn’t exactly hard to find an Asian man with an undercut hairstyle in LA, Ryan had to admit that there were disconcerting similarities between the two of them. Nguyen had the same skin tone, the same nose, and shallow jawline as Ryan. But where Ryan had always considered himself moderately attractive, Nguyen had been a small time actor, with the looks to prove it. Although they weren’t twins, they could have been brothers. 

Ryan fought the urge to grovel in apology to a dead man. _I’m sorry you had the misfortune of looking like me._

At the foot of the bed was a single long stemmed rose. It was a bit of melodrama that he frankly would have never expected from the Lover. The media would love it. 

Ryan forced himself to turn away from the victim. He spotted Shane, who looked disheveled in his unbuttoned suit jacket and glasses. Something else to feel bad about. Neither of them had slept in over twenty hours and it showed. They both needed a shower and to shave. Ryan figured this was a part of his penance, though. It was only fitting for him to lose sleep. But there was no reason to make Shane suffer as well. Maybe he should have sent Shane home.

Shane was staring at the rose with a thoughtful frown. Ryan cleared his throat. “What are your impressions?”

The other man looked up at him, then turned his attention to the victim. “Well, it’s a guy, for one. So. That’s new.”

Ryan was torn between wanting to strangle the man in a fit of anger or burst into stress-induced laughter. His mouth worked for a moment, then he muffled a laugh into his hands. “Shut up, Madej.”

“Wait, which is it? Tell you what I think or shut up? You can’t have it both ways, Bergara.”

“Oh for-” Ryan interrupted himself with an exasperated little eye roll. He’d never admit it, but he was abruptly thankful for Shane’s offbeat sense of humor. It was probably the only thing keeping his brain from melting. “Does he look like me? Or am I being paranoid?”

Shane glanced between him and the body of Nguyen. “At the risk of being the racist white guy in the room, yeah. I mean, he’s not identical to you or anything, but in a lineup…”

The corner of Ryan’s mouth ticked up into a small smile that quickly fell. “And the rose?”

“Now that, I’m not really sure. This guy has never used props before.”

“Yeah.” Ryan sighed shakily. He started to rub the back of his neck, before he remembering that he had gloves on. In preparation for seeing the body, he’d pulled them on before setting foot into the bedroom. That was minutes ago. He knew he needed to man up and examine the scene, and the body, more closely. It was the least he owed the victim. There wasn’t time for for him to be squeamish. Even if he felt oddly like he was about to examine his own corpse.

“Yeah,” he repeated with determined a nod. He pushed away his unease, put it in a box, and forced himself to act like the Goddamn professional he supposedly was. The case wasn’t going to solve itself. It was time to actually pay attention to what he was seeing.

The bed was large and everything about it, from the pillows to the sheets, looked lush and expensive. Ryan was also certain that Nguyen’s suit was more worth more than his car. Even rumpled from the body’s lax position, his clothes draped over him in a way that indicated professional tailoring. And, if he wasn’t mistaken, Nguyen had a manicure. The average man just did not have nails that nice. 

“This guy must have been pretty rich. He was an actor, right?”

“According to the officer first on the scene, yes. Guess he recognized him.” 

“That seems like something of a departure for the Lover,” Ryan said, frowning in thought. ““If a copycat did Hernandez, then he’s never gone after someone that had any level of publicity. We’ve never had a single witness, but maybe we’ll get lucky with Nguyen. A fan might have taken a picture or something.”

“Maybe he didn’t know?”

Ryan looked up at Shane, who was also staring at the body. “What?”

“The killer. Maybe he didn’t know Nguyen was an actor.” Shane paused, perhaps gathering his thoughts. “Let’s go with your theory that he’s been picking up his victims at bars. If Nguyen was in the closet, he wouldn’t tell a one night stand his real name or profession.”

Well, that only made Ryan feel worse. “Fuck. There’s no way we can know for sure until we reconstruct his last couple of nights, but that’s a theory that sounds way too plausible.”

“No need to sound so surprised, Bergara,” Shane drawled. “I have actually been doing this longer than you.”

Ryan snorted, the brief moment of humor enough for him to steel himself. He finally approached the body, reaching out to tilt Nguyen’s head to the side. His neck moved easily. “What’s the estimated time of death? Rigor mortis has passed.”

“About 24 hours ago, actually.”

“It took this long for someone to discover the body?” Ryan asked, leaning over the bed to press his thumb under the smooth stab wound. It was identical to the wounds on the first victims. Other than the entry point, Nguyen’s skin and clothes were clean of blood. The same as with the previous female victims. “I thought the neighbor called it in after noticing the door was open?”

He looked up when Shane didn’t answer and was caught by an intense stare that he couldn’t begin to interpret. The faint curl of Shane’s mouth into a soft smirk, the dark gaze covered by glasses that seemed to glitter in the lights left by Forensics. He didn’t look entirely human in the too bright lights. He looked _hungry_.

Ryan straightened up, hand falling away from Nguyen’s body. “Uh? What?”

“Let’s get a beer.”

Caught completely flat footed by the response, Ryan could only repeat, “What?”

Shane shrugged easily, relaxing into a slouch that left him looking much more normal. “We’re both tired and we’re not going to find anything standing around here. Let’s go to a bar, drink, then go home and sleep. You know we can’t do much until all the lab results come back.”

“It’s like one in the morning.”

Because that was why he didn’t want to go drinking with a funny, charming man that he found weirdly attractive. 

Shane gave him a faintly incredulous look. “It’s LA. Something will be open.”

Ryan sighed, a long low breath. “Alright. But you’re paying.”

They ended up at a chain sports bar that had Ryan relaxing almost instantly. Shane had given him a derisive eyeroll, but hadn’t actually complained about their destination. 

There weren’t many words exchanged at first. Ryan was too busy watching the various ESPN channels, trying to catch up on what he had missed in the world of basketball, and Shane seemed content to mess around on his phone. 

Between the beer and lack of sleep, Ryan found himself studying Shane. The man had completely taken his tie off at some point, and his sleeves were rolled up to the elbows. His forearms were surprisingly muscled, with long, lean lines and a pleasing amount of dark hair. Under the soft lights of the bar, with his tousled hair and rumpled appearance, Shane looked unfairly approachable. 

Looking up from his phone, eyes veiled by dark lashes, Shane smirked. “What, do I have something on me?”

Ryan practically stuck his nose in his beer in an attempt to jerk his gaze away. He could feel his cheeks heat and he prayed that the bar was too dark for his flush to be noticeable. “Just spacing out,” he mumbled into his drink.

That garnered him a raised eyebrow, but rather than call him out on the lame excuse, Shane sat his phone down, then spun it so that it faced Ryan. The screen was pictures of flowers. “Orange roses symbolize fascination.”

The thought of that single rose on Nguyen’s bed quickly sobered Ryan. “How do you know?”

“I Googled it, obviously.”

Ryan closed his eyes, reluctantly smiling. “I-yes, asshole, I can see that. I just mean, why did you think to look it up?”

“Usually people get red roses, right? I was wondering if there was anything significant about it being a different color. And I thought, if nothing else, it might help to see if any local florists remember selling a single rose like that.”

“It’s not a bad thought. There can’t be that many florists in West Hollywood.” Ryan shook his head, trying to clear it. He was tired of seeing Nguyen’s eerily similar face in his thoughts. “Let’s not talk about work, okay?”

“Alright,” Shane said easily enough. He put his phone away, took a drink, then asked, “You seeing anyone?”

Ryan choked on his own drink, sputtering at the harsh burn as liquid tried to go up his nose. “The hell?”

Shane blinked at him. “What? Isn’t that an appropriate ‘getting to know you’ question? I want to know everything about you.”

The odd answer made Ryan snicker. “Everything? Way to sound like a stalker, buddy.”

The other man huffed a laugh. “Oh baby, you have no idea. I’m on like, all of your social media accounts.”

They smiled at each for a long moment, before Shane inclined his head. “So? You didn’t answer.”

Ryan looked down, trying not to show the squirmy feeling that had started up in his guts. “No, no one at the moment. I’ve been pretty career oriented since I graduated, so I just haven’t really had the time.” Amongst other reasons. “You?”

“Nah,” Shane said, shrugging. “I’m admittedly picky, hard to find someone that will catch my attention for long.”

That was a surprisingly insightful answer. But then, Shane always did seem pretty self-aware. “What about Detective Rubin?” Ryan asked before he could stop himself.

Shane’s brow furrowed. “What about her?”

“I don’t know, you two seem pretty friendly already. I mean, you’ve only worked at the precinct for a month and a week of that was mandatory leave, but you wouldn’t think so with how you guys interact.” Ryan knew his face gave away nothing, but there didn’t seem to be anything he could do to stop the twitchy rattle of his fingers against the glass. “She’s a good woman.”

The other man was looking at him as if he had never even given Rubin a thought. It honestly surprised Ryan a little. Shane made a contemplative face. “I suppose, in a different life, I would have been pretty interested in her. But uh, not right now, you know?”

“What about Jess?”

Ryan could have slapped himself. His interest in the man’s dating history was becoming far too obvious. But then, he wasn’t the one that started the conversation. 

Shane’s face closed down, the only sign that he was uncomfortable was the way his jaw clenched. “We dated in Irvine. Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

Unspoken was the fact that it obviously hadn’t been a good idea. “Ah, sorry man. I guess it must kind of suck to have to work with her again.”

A small shrug before Shane drained the last of his beer. “We can keep it professional. Besides, I’ll put up with some discomfort if it means getting to work with you.”

Shane’s following smile was disturbingly captivating. 

Ryan smiled back without even realizing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hah, I clearly know nothing about policework. Google can only help so much!
> 
> Thank you again for the kind words! It's astounding to me that people are so interested in where this is going. It's kinda neat.


	5. Chapter 5

The day was already torturous and it was barely noon. 

Between the stress of waiting for lab results and the medical examiner’s reports, the guilt of having tangentially caused a man’s death, and the giddy, terrifying realization that he had a highschool crush on his coworker, Ryan had a headache that felt like it was going to kill him. 

And he had just been informed that he was going to be giving a press conference that very afternoon. 

It was probably too late to fake his own death.

“You look like shit.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes, but didn’t look away from his computer. “Says the Q-tip. Have you ever found a hat that actually fits you?”

Shane mock-glared in response. “Ooh, touchy. What’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“Other than the dead bodies?”

“Eh, I figured that went without saying.”

Ryan rolled his eyes, then gestured at his email. “I’ve been ‘volunteered’ to release a statement at a press conference in a couple hours. Boss doesn’t want the coroner to do it because he’ll just say whatever gets him more votes.”

“Flores won’t be doing it himself?” 

“He’s doing most of it, actually. But people want to see the lead investigator. Or so he says.” Ryan frowned. “I'm not looking forward to it.”

Shane closed his laptop and snagged his jacket off the back of his chair. “You’ve done one before though, right?”

“Doesn’t mean I like it,” Ryan replied. “You want to help me fake my own death? I could make a miraculous recovery after like a week.”

Shane looked just a little too serious when he said, “Any time, Bergara.”

Ryan smiled, amused and thankful that his coworker wasn’t going to chide him for not wanting to keep working. “You going to lunch?”

“Yeah. And yes, I’m going to bring you something,” Shane said, giving him a brief smile. “You look like you need it. And who knows? Maybe you’ll finally hit puberty, gain some inches.”

“Dick,” Ryan said with a grin, ignoring how the teasing made his heart thump. 

Shane just snickered, waving vaguely over his shoulder as he walked out of the squad room. Ryan took the opportunity to watch him weave through the desks and partitions, admiring the way his pants showcased his long legs and how his holster hugged his body. Shane rarely took the holster off, even if he didn’t actually have his gun on him. Ryan didn’t bother to question the habit, he just learned to appreciate it. 

Not for the first time, he wondered what Shane would look like in casual clothing. Did Shane even own any T-shirts? He’d only ever seen the man wearing the unofficial homicide detective uniform of slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie. Surely he had tighter clothing. Maybe something that would show off his arms and flatter his lean build. 

Ryan had one brief moment where he pictured Shane in dress uniform and then promptly stopped that train of thought. 

Realizing that he had been staring into space for the past fifteen minutes and his thoughts weren’t going anywhere professional, Ryan shook his head and stood. It was one thing to appreciate someone’s looks. It was another thing entirely to fantasize about them. He could acknowledge his attraction, but that didn’t mean he needed to make things worse by thinking about it. 

A distraction was definitely called for. He might as well see what Jess was up to, since he hadn’t talked to her about anything besides work a few days. While he was friendly with most of the station, she was one of the few people he could call a real friend. And she would probably appreciate the company, in that cold, sterile set of rooms.

Besides, it was his lunch. He could be excused from work for a few minutes. It wasn’t like he had accomplished anything in the past half hour, anyway. 

When he reached the morgue, he was surprised to find that most of the lights were off. He knocked on the open door, peering around. “Hello? Dr. Schmidt? Reynolds? Interns I don’t know the name of?”

There was a soft sigh from farther into the room, where the examination tables were set up. “Come in, Bergara.” 

At the very last table, a single light was on. It glared harshly down on a naked body. Luckily, he could tell that the autopsy had been finished and the body cavity sewn closed, because he didn’t think he could have forced himself closer, even if Jess did look like she was a moment away from a break down. She was slumped in a chair, her hair in a messy bun and her eyes red. 

“Jess,” Ryan asked quietly, moving closer. “You alright?”

Jess made an aborted little gesture that seemed to indicate the body on the table, then shrugged. 

Ryan glanced at the body. He did a double take, eyes going wide. 

The corpse was a tall blonde woman, and in life she would have been beautiful. Now she had the pale, distorted look of a body that has been above ground a little too long. She was also eerily familiar. Except for the large gash across her throat, the woman could have been Jess’ sister. 

Ryan choked a little. “Wow, that is a disturbing resemblance.”

Jess made a sound that could have been a laugh if he was being generous. “Oh good, I’m not being paranoid.” She took a deep breath, then straightened. “My tests aren't finished yet, if that's what you’re down here for.”

“Ah no, I just wanted to come say ‘hi’. What’s the story here?”

“Just a mugging victim,” Jess said, staring at him as if daring him to argue. It was a surprisingly intense stare coming from a woman who looked like she’d been crying five minutes ago. “She was actually found not too far from my apartment.”

Ryan wasn’t really sure what to do with that information. He held up his hands, even though he didn’t know why she seemed angry. “Alright. That’s weird. I guess everyone has people that look like them, though. That doppelganger thing, right?” 

“You’d know something about that, wouldn’t you?” she practically hissed.

Daniel Nguyen wasn’t someone he particularly wanted to be reminded of at the moment, but Jess would have been the one to examine the man’s body. She no doubt had noticed the resemblance as well. “Ah, yeah. Yeah, it is weird.” 

There was an awkward pause. Ryan wanted to offer comfort to his friend, but she looked weirdly standoffish right now. Maybe performing an autopsy on a woman that could have been her twin had reminded her of her mortality. God knew that Nguyen’s death had freaked Ryan out. 

A knock on the morgue door made both of them startle. 

“Why are we standing eerily in the dark next to a corpse?”

Ryan twisted, a grin of relief on his face as he saw Shane silhouetted in the doorway. The man held a bag of food in one hand, holding it out like an offering. _Saved by the Chipotle_. Ryan didn’t do well with awkward situations and this was one of the more awkward he’d ever been in.

He tried to smile at Jess, but she just glared at the both of them. He was tempted to make a joke about it being that time of the month, but thought better of it. Jess was surrounded by way too many scalpels and bone saws. Ducking his head in a odd little nod, he hurried back towards Shane. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll talk to you later, okay Jess?” Ryan said over his shoulder, not even pausing as he squeezed past Shane in the doorway. As soon as they were out of hearing distance of the morgue, he turned towards Shane. “Holy shit, she’s pissed about something.”

Shane hummed a polite questioning noise.

“Yeah, some mugging victim that looks remarkably similar to her. I guess she couldn’t take it or something. I think she was crying and now she’s mad.”

Ryan looked up in time to see a weirdly pleased look cross Shane’s face. He pushed Shane’s upper arm in a half hearted punch. “Dude, I know you guys are exes or whatever, but maybe don’t look so happy about my friend being angry, okay?”

Shane raised his eyebrows in an innocent ‘who, me?’ expression. 

“Whatever,” Ryan rolled his eyes. This was why workplace romances were a bad idea. The inevitable fallout was a bitch to deal with. Something he needed to remember. “Give me my food.”

Shane really didn’t need to smile at him like that. “Wow, where's the gratitude? You’ve got an hour before that press conference, so you'd better to be nice to me if you want this before then.”

“Ah, shit.”

After a brief argument over a burrito that he refused to acknowledge had been made to his exact preference, Ryan put on his best suit jacket and tie, grabbed his sunglasses, and marched into battle. Which was also known as standing stiffly in front of a podium that was older than him with a dozen microphones shoved in his face, trying not to show how his fingers shook. Thank God for the LAPD PR unit. He only had to read off the prepared statement. Chief Flores would be handling any questions. 

Deep breath. 

“On Tuesday, March 13th, at 10:33 PM, officers of the LAPD were dispatched to the 800 block of North Laurel Avenue in response to a found body. The body was the victim of a homicide perpetrated sometime within 24 hours of the body being discovered. Suspects are being brought in for questioning. Our main suspect at this time is the serial killer known as the Lover. With this additional homicide, the Lover’s pattern has changed, indicating a possible upswing in incidences. At this point, we strongly urge the public to practice caution. If alone, inform family, friends, or coworkers of your whereabouts at all times. If you have any information pertaining to March 13th’s homicide or the identity of the Lover, please contact the LAPD. The Los Angeles Coroner’s Office will release the identity of the victim once the next of kin have been notified. Chief Flores will now be taking any questions.”

Ryan stepped back until he was standing next to Shane, who was looking very solemn with his sunglasses and buttoned up jacket. The knowledge that Shane had literally had his back during that little speech went a long ways towards relaxing his shaking hands. The way the man shifted just enough to knock his elbow into Ryan’s was icing on the cake at that point. 

“Thank you, Detective Bergara. I will now be taking pre-approved questions.” Flores said into the microphone. At this point, Ryan zoned out, content that his part was done. Now all he had to do was stand around until the reporters got bored. 

He was contemplating what he was going to get for dinner, when a question that surely hadn’t been approved beforehand caught his attention. 

“Is he gay?”

The way Ryan stiffened at the question would have been damning, except that even Flores seemed dumbfounded.

“I’m sorry?”

The reporter who had asked, a woman in an ice blue suit, cooly raised one eyebrow. “Is the Lover gay? We know the latest victim was a man. There was no sexual trauma on the previous female victims. Is that the same for the newest one? Is he dealing with his sexuality in a violent way? Does the gay community need to be worried?”

Ryan made a strange, strangled noise from behind clenched teeth that was half swear, half incredulous laugh. What the hell kind of game was this woman playing? 

There was a long pause, then Flores said, “There is no evidence of trauma to the latest victim. Frankly, I don’t know what you’re driving at. False allegations to the identity of the suspect could easily lead towards a backlash against the LGBTQ community.” He said the words with the kind of precise language that only a man who had been through multiple sensitivity seminars could do. “Ma’am, I personally do not appreciate your attempt to cause panic. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan saw the PR rep literally facepalm. 

“This press conference is over.”

With that, Chief Flores turned and swept out of the room. Ryan and Shane exchanged glances, then hurried after him. 

Once they were through several set of doors, Flores stopped. “The _fuck_ ,” he swore. Loudly. “I have to deal with enough race riots in this city, I’m not adding sexuality riots to it. Bergara!”

Ryan jumped and tried not to look guilty. “Sir?”

“You find this fucker, you hear me?” Ryan nodded. He didn’t think he’d be allowed to do anything else. “Christ, I need a drink. Thank God none of that was live.”

Flores beelined into his office and slammed the door shut with clear finality. 

“You alright?” Shane leaned into Ryan’s space, gently grasping his arm. He was used to the taller man towering over him, but there was something too personal about this. He jerked his arm away too fast, he knew. He just couldn’t deal with Shane being so close right now. 

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” He tried to meet Shane’s eyes, but the man’s sunglasses hid his face too well. Ryan smiled nervously. “That was a much livelier press conference than they usually are. Just a little rattled.”

Shane studied him for a long moment, then nodded. “Alright. Drinks after work?”

Ryan’s knee jerk reaction was to say no. After what had just happened, the last thing he wanted to do was get drunk with a man. But. He did want to relax. And he doubted he’d do that alone in his apartment, with only Netflix for company. 

“I have to do some errands, first. Meet at the bar on 5th around 9?”

“Great, it’s a plan.” Shane clapped him on the shoulder, then wandered back towards their shared desk. 

He wondered if Shane had originally meant to say ‘It’s a date.’

Then he shook himself. That was not the kind of thinking he needed to be doing. There were now lab reports to go over and potential witnesses to call. His job wasn’t something he could ignore just so he could deal with his own emotional crisis.

Lab reports weren’t a very good distraction to the growing anger and fear that swirled through his mind. What the hell was that reporter been trying to prove? Was she from one of those shitty publications that claimed JFK was an alien and living in Miami? Except that she had looked too professional to work for such a rag. 

What if information about the emails from the Lover had gotten out? Obviously not the entire email, since most outlets would be more than happy to repeat the content verbatim. But if someone involved in trying to track down the origin of the emails had let something slip? Half the IT department was working on the emails, it wouldn’t be hard to find someone willing to sell information. And the Lover hadn’t exactly sounded very straight in his last email. 

The headache that had cropped up at the start of the day was positively murderous by the time he made it to the bar that night. The drive home had been fine, but while he had been picking up groceries, he had stood in line behind two men that had made an adorable couple. They had been so happily in love, Ryan had wanted to throw something at them.

He knew that alcohol wouldn’t actually help with the headache, but since it seemed like the universe was trying to throw his life choices in his face, he craved something that would help him forget his problems. 

Pushing his way into the bar, he paused to let his eyes adjust to the gloom. It was a bar that he didn’t actually know the name of. It was always just referred to as ‘the bar on 5th.’ Close enough to the station that half of the clientele were cops, but it had enough new people to keep it from just being work with beer. 

He was scanning the crowd when his sight caught on Shane. The man was leaning against the bar in jeans and a jean jacket. It was jarring to see him out of slacks, especially after Ryan's little daydream from earlier. Next to Shane, looking up with a blatantly flirty grin, was a petite young woman with the kind of red hair that only came from a bottle. Shane loomed above her. And while the man loomed simply by existing, this posture held intent. This was a man who was aware of every inch of his height and knew how to use it. 

The expression on his face was amused. Dark. Predatory. 

Ryan knew that look. He’d seen it directed at him more than once. 

It wasn’t until that moment, seeing it from a distance, that he realized what he was seeing. That was the look of a man who liked what he was seeing and wanted it for himself. 

And Shane was looking at this woman like that. Not him. 

Ryan swallowed a lump in his throat. 

He took a step back, about to leave, when Shane glanced up and caught sight of him over the woman’s head. The intense expression melted off Shane’s face like it had never been, and he grinned at Ryan as if he was the best thing he’d ever seen. 

The woman didn’t seem too happy that Shane was leaving the bar, but he apologetically shrugged her off and made his way to Ryan, an opened bottle of beer in each hand. 

“Hey,” Shane said once he was no more than an arm’s length away. “Was starting to think you’d gotten lost.”

“Uh, yeah,” Ryan said nonsensically. He accepted the offered beer, then awkwardly cleared his throat. “I mean, got a bit caught up. Um. You looked busy when I came in.”

Shane glanced back over his shoulder, then shrugged. “Nah, was just having a conversation.”

“Dude, if you want to keep ‘conversing’, I won’t stop you. There’s a game on tonight that wouldn’t mind watching.” _Just a bro being a bro._

“Ah yes, the sportsball game,” Shane said, completely ignoring his offer. “I’m sure the team will score many goals.”

Ryan grabbed on to the offered topic like it was a life preserver. “Points, Madej. You get points in basketball.” 

“My mistake,” Shane replied with a mocking smile. “So what is it, pro, junior, what?” He indicated a small table that had a fairly clear view of the small TV above the bar.

Well, clearly this couldn’t stand. “Um, have you never heard of March Madness? Really?”

“Of course I have, but you get this little wrinkle between your eyes whenever someone mocks basketball. It’s great.”

Ryan made a noise of outrage and marched over to the table. “Sit down and get educated, scrub.”

After a second beer and fifteen minutes straight of expounding on the virtues of his bracket and why it was bullshit that UMBC had beaten Virginia, Ryan realized that this was the most relaxed he had felt in weeks. Maybe even since he had been made lead investigator. 

He paused and smiled at Shane, who, shockingly, looked like he had actually been paying attention. “Sorry, I’m sure you don’t actually care about this. Because you’re a sad, sad man, but, still.”

Shane smiled teasingly around the neck of his beer bottle. “Oh it’s incredibly boring. Mind numbing. But you’re cute when you’re this interested in something.”

The telltale heat of a blush rose in his cheeks. He hoped it’d be blamed on the alcohol. “Fuck you, I’m manly as hell.”

“Mhmm. 

“And so is basketball.”

“Yeah, watching tall, fit men running around getting sweaty sure is manly.”

Ryan’s jaw dropped open. “Really? Pulling the ‘teamsports is ambiguously gay’ card?”

Shane fought to keep his face straight, but Ryan could see the smile tugging at his mouth. “Usually it makes a bro so uncomfortable that they stop talking about it.”

“I, sir, am an enlightened bro,” Ryan informed him, his nose in the air. 

“Oh, I can see that. You want another cheap light beer, enlightened one?”

“Yes, I would,” Ryan said primly. He watched Shane walk away, and as soon as the man’s back was towards him, he slumped into his chair. He knew the conversation had been joking in nature, but it had rattled something in him. Now he couldn’t help but think about the last couple of days. 

By the time Shane came back, he was morosely picking at the label on his bottle. A new one was sat in front of them, then Shane said, “I was only gone for a minute. Did you really feel that neglected?”

Ryan halfheartedly flipped him off. “Just thinking about today.”

“Ah.”

Silence fell between them for a moment. Looking to the side, gaze pensive, Shane asked, “Can I say something weirdly personal?”

Ryan blinked. “Uh, yeah? This is a safe space,” he weakly joked.

Shane took a long drink, then said steadily, as if commenting about the weather, “I think I’m questioning my sexual orientation.”

Ryan was incredibly thankful that he hadn’t been taking a drink at the time, because he probably would have died. As it was, he ended up choking on his own saliva. 

By the time he had stopped coughing, Shane was giving him a supremely unimpressed look. “Thanks,” he said dryly. 

“Sorry,” Ryan said, voice rough. “I just…” he made a hand wavy little gesture, like that would help articulate what he was thinking. “Wasn’t expecting that.”

“I gathered.” Shane’s eyes fell to the table. “Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“No!” He squeaked, then closed his eyes. _Get it together_. “I mean. Let me try again. Thank you for telling me.”

He looked up in time to see Shane roll his eyes. “I’m not a teenage girl and this isn’t an after school special. It’s just something I wanted to get off my chest.”

“Oh. Alright. What uh, what brought this on?”

“Recent circumstances.” Shane caught his gaze with dark eyes, then deliberately sat his bottle down. He leaned over the table, arms settling palm up on the surface, like he was laying out all of his cards. “Go to dinner with me, Ryan.”

There was no mistaking the intention in those words, not with how Shane was staring at him. And not with what he had led with. That damn faint smirk was back. This wasn’t a friendly invitation. This was asking for a date.

There were many things Ryan could have said in response. 

_I’m flattered, but no thank you._

_I’m not gay._

_Yes._

What he did instead was hunch forward, eyes skittering around the room. He didn’t recognize any coworkers, but he didn’t know everyone in the station. And more people knew his face than he was entirely comfortable with. This place was far too public for this conversation. 

Anger or fear made his voice shake. He preferred to think it was anger. “I’m not going to be some straight boy’s experiment, Madej,” he hissed.

Well, that wasn’t exactly a resounding, ‘I’m heterosexual.’

Shane seemed to take this into consideration, his head tilted a little to the side in contemplation. “Fair enough,” he said with a nod, apparently oblivious to how uncomfortable Ryan was. He was so damnably calm. “I get that you want to protect yourself and I can’t fault that.”

“I can’t deal with this right now,” Ryan said abruptly, cursing himself for a coward. He stood and jerked his jacket on. “I’ll...I’ll see you tomorrow.” He tossed a few bills onto the table, then left without looking back. 

A part of him wanted to hear Shane call his name, but the sound never came.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have repeat commenters and that fact is is awesome! And it's reassuring to know that my writing style is working for this.
> 
> Thank you so much :)


	6. Chapter 6

“So, I’m an ass.”

Shane looked up from his paperwork, eyebrow raised. 

Ryan looked down at the coffee in his hand, then awkwardly shoved it at Shane. “I’m sorry.”

After a few hours of restless tossing and turning, Ryan had come to the realization that he hadn’t handled Shane’s revelation very well. At all. He knew first hand the kind of courage it took to come out to someone. Add in the fact that it seemed like it was a fairly new development for Shane, it must have taken a special kind of bravery to say anything. 

If Ryan’s parents had reacted to his coming out the way he had reacted to Shane last night, he would have been devastated. And, well. Shane _did_ imply that Ryan was the reason for him questioning his sexuality in his thirties. Ryan could have let him down gently. Should have. No, would. 

Shane slowly accepted the cup of coffee, making a point to keep his long fingers away from Ryan’s. And didn’t that just make Ryan feel like dirt. 

“It’s fine,” Shane finally said. “The lab worked overtime apparently. We’ve got results to go over.”

It was tempting to take the out that Shane was giving him. From a professional point of view, it was the best choice. But he couldn’t stand the careful, controlled way that Shane was acting. He’d barely known Shane for two months, but he knew the man rarely let anything actually bother him. The way he was acting now, that tiny hint of vulnerability, made Shane seem so much more real. More human. It made something in his chest ache. So Ryan gathered his courage with both hands and met Shane’s gaze, willing him to see how sincere he was. 

“I _am_ sorry, Shane,” Ryan said. He said the next part in a much lower voice, glad that the only person near them was Evans, who was talking on a phone. “I know what you’re going through. If you need someone to talk to, let me know.”

That was as blatant as he could will himself to be. A strange thrill of relief made him gently grasp Shane’s shoulder in a brief offering of comfort. Shane looked at him with startlingly clear, brown eyes. It was a nice look.

Before the moment could become any more emotionally charged, Ryan backed away and sat down. He wiggled his mouse to wake up his computer, feeling a little bit like he had just ran a marathon. 

“I thought about what you said last night,” Shane said, looking over the top of his cup with a surprisingly placid expression. It was like he had regained his usual equilibrium.

“Ah, which part?” Ryan eventually asked, _knowing_ that he would probably regret falling for that bait. 

“Definitely not the part about basketball.”

“Because you’re a heathen, Madej.”

Shane made a short humming noise. Then, “I took a man home last night.” He said it as if he wasn’t at work and surrounded by people that would _care_. At Ryan’s wide-eyed look and choked off breath, he smirked, a dangerous little tilt to his lips that showed far too much glee in getting Ryan to react like that. 

Ryan carefully ignored the flare of jealousy that curled through his gut. “Uh, what? Just-just like that?”

With an easy shrug that completely failed to convey the ridiculousness of the situation, Shane turned back towards his laptop, tapping a few keys as if he was actually thinking about work. “Like I said, you had a point. While I don’t think I was confused, or misinterpreting things, I knew that you would feel better if you didn’t have to worry that I was going to have a heterosexual freakout. So.”

A horrible curiosity mingled with the jealousy that he was still very much ignoring, thank you. “And, uh, no, uh, issues?”

Shane didn’t look away from his screen, but he did smile like a cat that had gotten into the cream. “No, there was no, uh, issues.” 

Unbidden, the image of Daniel Nguyen’s slack face rose into his head. “Call me paranoid, but I’ve already got one weirdo obsessed with me. Tell me this mystery one night stand didn’t look like me.”

Shane finally glanced at him, brow furrowed. He looked a little confused. “I literally just said I understood why you were worried. What good would that have done? Not that it’s any of your business, but he was blonde and pretty close to my height.”

Ryan blinked. Abruptly that image filled his head, and he couldn’t not laugh. “Oh my God,” he snorted. Giddiness rose up and turned into a wheezy, strangled laugh. “That must have been like two giraffes going at it!”

The unamused glare that Shane sent him just made him laugh harder. It must have been louder than he intended, because some of the officers on the other side of the room turned to look at them. He struggled to calm himself before somebody came to yell at them. 

Just as he was starting to get ahold of himself, Shane drawled, “Well. You’re not wrong.”

Ryan nearly fell out of his chair. “Oh my God, oh my God,” he panted through barks of laughter. “That isn’t even that funny, Christ.”

“Can we work now? Like we’re paid to?” Shane said with mock affront.

Ryan threw a pen at him. “You ass,” he said with a grin. 

His phone buzzed and Ryan answered it without a second thought. He was waiting on information from the IT department and was expecting them to get back to him today. There was a slight hope that they could track the Lover online. 

“Detective Bergara.”

“Bergara, it’s Hayes. What’s your ethnicity?”

Ryan’s brow furrowed, confused by the random question. “Uh, Japanese and Mexican, mostly,” he answered slowly. “Why? What are you?”

“German, thanks for asking. But that’s besides the point.” Hayes paused for a moment, long enough for Ryan to cast a bewildered look at Shane, who was watching him curiously. “Well, fuck. I need you to come take a look at something. I’ll text you the address.”

“Hayes, what the hell-”

“I’ll give you more information when you get here,” Hayes said before hanging up. 

Ryan scowled at his phone, then stood up and grabbed his suit jacket. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What was that about?” Shane asked, even as he started getting ready. 

“I have no clue, but I’ve got a feeling I’m not going to like it.”

And that was something of an understatement. 

The entire drive to the address Hayes had provided, Ryan had hoped that they weren’t about to walk into another homicide scene. That maybe this was just some weird sort of joke on Hayes part. Unfortunately, what they walked into was just as bad as he had feared, if not worse. 

The address was a small studio apartment in a block of cookie cutter apartment buildings. It was the kind of thing that could be found all over LA. The door was propped open, with officers and Forensics techs milling back and forth in the hallway. Usually Ryan came to a scene after the initial rush of photographs, dusting for prints, and searching for basic clues had already passed. Hayes must have called him right away. 

Hayes was just inside the apartment door, a pensive frown on his face that didn’t match his normal attitude. He glanced up at them and waved them inside. “Bergara. Madej. Take a look, tell me what you think.”

Ryan narrowed his eyes at him. “I don’t think I appreciate the unnecessary drama, Hayes.”

“Yeah, I don’t either,” Hayes said, unusually somber. “But I want to make sure I’m not reading into this. So, no bias from me.”

After another long look at Hayes, Ryan stepped further into the apartment. And immediately stopped. 

It was one large room with a single door for a bathroom and a half-assed attempt at a kitchen in the opposite corner. The techs were all outside and there was only the three of them crowded at the door. That meant there was nothing to obscure the smear of blood across the carpet or the body sprawled on the floor, half leant against the couch. But that wasn’t what made him freeze. 

Written across the opposite wall, so that it would be the first thing anyone saw when they walked into the room was a single word. 

_Fag_

Shane gently grasped his upper arm and Ryan realized that even though he was in the way, Shane was tall enough that he’d be able to see everything over Ryan’s head. He jerked his arm away from the man’s touch, half-stumbling farther into the room. 

“Don’t touch anything,” Hayes said, sounding apologetic. “They haven’t even dusted for prints yet.”

Ryan nodded jerkily, but dismissed Hayes soft voice and the concerned look that Shane was giving him. He edged forward until he was just out of touching distance of the body and crouched down, examining the corpse’s face. 

The victim was an Asian man in his mid-20s, and wow, Ryan was getting tired of that. He was wearing a thin T-shirt that did nothing to hide the blood staining most of his torso or the ligature marks indicative of being strangled. His right hand was loosely curled at his chest, as if he had tried to stop himself from bleeding out from the wound in his neck. A cell phone sat just out of reach of his other hand. 

“Did-” Ryan’s voice cracked. He swallowed and tried again. “Did the vic call in his own murder or something?”

“Yes, actually,” Hayes said. Ryan sat back on his heels and glanced at Hayes. 

“You’re kidding.”

“At 8:14am, dispatch received a call from this apartment. He described a 5’11, white, blonde woman who called herself Jasmine that he picked up at a bar last night. That’s as much as he was able to say before he bled out. I think maybe the woman didn’t know he was still alive when she left.”

Ryan rose to his feet, genuinely bewildered. “That’s a lot of information to get out when you’re dying.”

“Yeah,” Hayes said, grimacing. “He was trained for it.”

Shane made the leap before Ryan’s shocked brain could. “He was an officer. Who was he?”

“I’d like to know your impressions before I give you any more information.”

Ryan glared at Hayes. “Well, at first glance, it’s obviously a hate crime.” He pointedly didn’t look at the word on the wall. “But if this man was picking up a woman at a bar, and she stayed the night, I doubt he was a f-” he stuttered, swallowed. “I doubt he was gay.”

Shane cut in, his expression on the verge of murderous. “Even from here I can see that he was strangled under all that blood. Why?”

Hayes sighed, glanced at Ryan almost guiltily, then got out a notebook. “This is Officer James Toshiya Cruz. He graduated from the Academy last year. Initial examination suggests that our suspect stabbed him in the neck, but didn’t do it well enough. When he didn’t bleed out right away, she strangled him. That might have actually been what kept him alive long enough to make the phone call. There would have been quite a bit of pressure on the wound. We won’t know for certain until a pathologist can determine cause of death, but that’s my educated guess.” 

Ryan took a step back before he even realized was doing it. His mind was a buzzing cacophony, repeating the names Toshiya and Cruz over and over again. “What the _fuck_ ,” he breathed. 

“Cruz is a Spanish name,” Shane said slowly, obviously following the same line of thought that Ryan was. “You think the Lover’s copycat did this.”

Hayes nodded. “It seemed like a pretty cut and dried case when I first got here. But when I found out the vic’s full name, it got me wondering. I uh, I know the Lover and his copycat have been baiting each other. And if the copycat isn’t very happy about the Lover’s obsession with Bergara, the next step might be to kill someone that’s as similar to Bergara as possible.”

“And how many Japanese-Mexican Americans are there in LA?” Shane asked, voice tightly controlled.

“More than you might think,” Ryan answered through numb lips. His own voice sounded like it was coming from a tunnel. “But in the right age range and also an officer? Very very few.” He let out a crazed little laugh. “If it turns out one of his great-grandparents was Filipino, my mind is going to melt.” It already was. 

Maybe he could hear the hysteria in Ryan’s voice, because suddenly Shane was right there, his hand a warm weight on Ryan’s shoulder. “Ryan, breathe, you’re safe.”

Ryan ignored him, his voice going faster and more high pitched with each sentence. “You don’t just get lucky finding someone like that. Nguyen might have been luck, fuck, you wander around long enough and you’re bound to find someone that looks superficially like anyone you want, but this? This level of similarity takes time, it takes a ridiculous amount of research. It takes stalking the victim and creating an opportunity. _Fuck_.” 

He wasn’t entirely sure how he found himself in a hug, but he gripped onto the back of Shane’s jacket like it was a life line. Any other situation, any other case, he would have backed away from Shane instantly. Men didn’t just hug each other and he was incredibly aware of that. But in this moment, with only Hayes present, Ryan allowed himself this small comfort. His open mouth was smashed against Shane’s collarbone as he tried to breath harshly. “How many more people are going to be murdered because of me?” he mumbled, the desperate words muffled by a silk tie. 

Shane smelled like gun oil and deodorant. It was weirdly nice. 

After a second there was an awkwardly cleared throat and a shuffle of feet that abruptly reminded Ryan they weren’t alone. He pulled away from Shane, who seemed reluctant to let him go, but merely let his hand linger against Ryan’s arm. Ryan looked up to meet Hayes eyes and was shocked to see the sympathy and understanding there, even if it was buried under a layer of second-hand embarrassment. 

But the Detective wasn’t surprised. 

_Does Hayes know?_

He had thought that Hayes was being squirrely and apologetic upon their arrival because it was yet another victim that was eerily similar to him. But what if it had more to do with the nature of the scene? What if Hayes knew about him? He had been so careful to hide. Years of keeping his attractions to himself and of dancing around certain topics. Had it all been pointless?

Who else knew?

His already fast heart rate surged as Ryan felt panic seem to raise up from his very toes. His gaze skittered from Hayes to Shane to the body on the floor. The body of a fellow officer. A man who was dead because of him.

The LAPD was huge. Ryan hadn’t known Cruz. He hadn’t even known the man existed. He knew nothing about the man’s family life or how he had been raised. But God, it was all too easy to imagine. Had his family been mostly American in culture? Or did Cruz grow up hearing snatches of Spanish and Japanese and the eternal debate of short grain versus long grain rice? Had it been instinct to take his shoes off at the door or to cross himself when entering a church, any church? 

Ryan’s stomach flipped. He shoved away from Shane and ran out the door, pushing past an officer and falling to his knees as soon as he reached sidewalk. He heaved, the burn of bile making him gag. There wasn’t actually anything that came up, but the retching noises he was making was enough to make his nausea even worse. 

Shakily wiping a hand across his mouth, Ryan stared at the little puddle of spit on the pavement. He could hear the mutter of the Forensics team that had been waiting and embarrassment swept through him. He couldn’t believe he had allowed strangers to see him like this. It was one thing to be known as high strung or even a little weird. But this was shameful. He was reacting like a green rookie. 

Ryan took one long, self-flagellating moment to reflect on what brought him to this point. It was easy to guess. He had made one of the worst mistakes a detective could make at a crime scene. He had allowed the victim to become a person. 

It might seem heartless, but a detective in LA couldn’t afford to become personally affected by every homicide they came across. There were just too many to count. And many of the more mysterious ones went unsolved. It was just how it was. If a detective allowed a case to become personal, they’d make terrible decisions and suffer far too much mental stress. 

But how could Ryan not be affected by Cruz’s murder? It was so much more personal than even Nguyen’s. 

Shane crouched next to him, his long legs looking ridiculous in the pose. His elbow knocked into Ryan’s arm. If Ryan had felt a little more like himself, he would have made a joke. As it was, he just continued to stare down at the ground. The warm, muggy humidity of LA in spring made sweat drip down his temples and his shirt cling to his back. Combined with the pitiful attempts at vomiting, Ryan knew he looked like shit. But Shane didn’t seem to mind being in such close proximity to him. 

“That’s the first time my hug has made somebody throw up.”

Despite himself, Ryan turned towards Shane, his mouth open in surprise. “What-” his lips twitched, then he snickered tiredly as he rubbed his hand over his face. “For fuck’s sake, Madej.”

Shane smiled, but it quickly fell. “None of this is your fault, Ryan.”

Ryan grimaced. “I know that. But at the same time, I don’t know that. I keep feeling like I’ve missed something. If I was better, if I had caught even one of them, so many people that died would be alive.”

“You’re trying to stop two serial killers that are smart enough not to leave evidence. That’d be tough for anyone.”

Scrubbing his hand through his hair, Ryan sighed. “I need to tell Chief Flores about this. Fuck, he might put a protective detail on me.”

“Don’t go home with any blonde women and you should be fine.”

Ryan smiled humorlessly. It didn’t feel like there was a point in pretending around Shane any more. Fuck, maybe it was pointless to pretend around Hayes as well. “We both know that’s not likely to happen. Truthfully, I’m more worried about the Lover. What if he decides to respond to the copycat and goes after me?”

Shane shifted, putting one knee on the ground so that he was kneeling, curving over Ryan like a shield. He grasped Ryan’s wrist, long fingers wrapping around his arm like a handcuff. It was almost like holding hands. Not that Ryan would have allowed that in public. “Ryan, look at me.”

Ryan blinked, then looked up to meet Shane’s gaze. The man’s eyes were dark. Too intense and serious. 

“The Lover will never hurt you. I promise.”

Shane’s fingers felt heavy, even through his shirt sleeve. Ryan smiled a little at Shane’s solemn tone. “You can’t promise that, Shane. But thanks.”

Ryan knew he hadn’t moved at all, but Shane suddenly seemed imperceptibly closer. His eyes were so hard to look away from. “Let me buy you dinner.”

Ryan scoffed, incredulous and not a little offended. “Really? Now is not the time to be asking me out on a date.”

“Not a date. Just two friends getting dinner. You need something to look forward to.”

“And you think I’d look forward to dinner with you?”

Shane just looked at him, managing to convey exasperated fondness and concern through nothing more than a glare and a raised eyebrow. He really did have an expressive face. 

Finally, Ryan made himself look away. He sighed. “Just friends, huh?”

“Mhmm. Just two platonic friends that are very manly and macho.”

Ryan snorted. “Alright,” he said, surprising himself. “Just dinner.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My search history is now very...interesting. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the comments! Y'all are keeping me on my toes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the rating goes up to explicit, just in case.

For something that wasn’t supposed to be a date, Ryan was stupidly nervous. He may have even changed his shirt twice. And maybe he was wearing his tight jeans, the ones with artful holes in the knees. He knew he’d be teased for them, but damn it, they looked good. 

Not that he wanted to look good. 

They had spent two hours at the crime scene, accomplishing nothing except annoying the Forensics techs. There hadn’t been any obvious clues and staring at the body of Cruz had just served to make Ryan feel worse. 

Finally, Ryan had allowed Shane to chivvy him back to the station, after Hayes had promised to call him right away if they found something important. Which was stupid, because Ryan already knew Hayes would do that, but the gesture made him feel better. 

The rest of the work day had been split between hitting his head against a metaphorical wall as he stared at files that didn’t give up any new information and then watching Shane. Who had gone about his business with a casual aplomb that was downright frustrating. 

Although Shane didn’t have a serial killer or two obsessed with him. That probably made his life a little less stressful. 

Now Ryan was sitting in his car at a restaurant, staring at his reflection in his rearview mirror and making a disgusted face. He had put product in his hair and the fact that he had cared enough to do that despite the fact that it was _not a date_ made him feel like an idiot. Back before he had made detective, he used to use the stuff daily. Now he styled his hair so rarely that the little tub of hair paste sitting on his bathroom sink was years old and starting to smell weird. 

Why had he even bothered tonight? Shane was more likely to mock him than appreciate the effort, anyways. 

_He looks at me like he wants me._

The thought hit him out of nowhere. He stared out the car windshield unseeing for a long moment, honestly shocked. It was true that it had been awhile since he had dated, or even tried to hook up with someone at a bar. College had been easier, but that had been years ago. And he had to be so careful at work that he didn’t even bother looking. Dating apps were completely out of the picture because the idea of something like Grindr on his phone, where it could be seen and discovered, made his stomach curl in protest. 

What it boiled down to was the fact that, even though he was almost thirty, it had been at least a couple of years since he had been on a date. Years since a charming man had looked at him with interest. That he knew of, at least.

“Holy shit, I want this to be a date,” he said out loud like a crazy person. 

A knock on his passenger side window made him startle and shriek. In a very manly way. His hand reached for a gun that he didn’t have even as he whirled to face the threat. The stress of the past few days had left him twitchy, but this was the first time his initial reaction had been to go for a weapon. He was embarrassed by his response even as it was happening. 

The ‘threat’ turned out to be Shane, who was standing next to his car with an eyebrow raised and doing nothing to hide his grin. 

“Fuck,” Ryan said, getting his breathing under control and then flipping off Shane. He got out of his car, glaring at Shane over the top of it. “What the hell, Madej?”

“Hey, I’m not the one that was talking to himself in the car.”

Continuing to glare at Shane, Ryan tried very hard to ignore the heat in his cheeks. Maybe his blush wouldn’t be noticed in the dark. And maybe Shane hadn’t heard him in the car. Either his sudden revelation or his yell. “We eating or what?”

Shane was unfairly cute when he was so obviously mocking Ryan in his mind. 

Ryan followed Shane into the restaurant, a new microbrewery that was almost identical to the dozens of others that had cropped up in the past few years. It was a good choice, though. It was nicer than a bar, but it wasn’t exactly a romantic location. Clearly Shane had been careful when picking the place. He was sticking to his word that this was just a friendly outing. Ryan had the odd sensation of feeling both relief and disappointment at once. 

In the long slow hours of the afternoon, Ryan had thought that this dinner would be awkward and silent. Even if he hadn’t been leery about Shane’s intentions, his mind couldn’t stop focusing on the guilt and stress of the day. The way his emotions were ping ponging back and forth was exhausting. It wasn’t a stretch to think that he would be a horrible conversation partner.

And yet, once they had settled into a booth and ordered their food, they flowed into an actual discussion without a pause. It was like they had known each other for years, rather than the two months it really was. Ryan wasn’t surprised, just amused, that Shane knew the weirdest history facts. It was a facet to the man that just seemed to fit him. 

Likewise, Shane rolled his eyes and teased Ryan about his interest in conspiracy theories and the supernatural, but not once did the teasing turn cruel. A little spark would light in Shane’s eyes whenever Ryan became particularly riled up about something, grin wide and voice strident. 

The faces of Nguyen and Cruz lingered in the back of Ryan’s mind, but he pushed those thoughts away with manic determination. He was having fun, damn it. Guilt was not going to ruin this. 

They were pleasantly full and just barely buzzed from some surprisingly good beer when Shane began to act a little shifty. 

“You can’t prove that ghosts _don’t_ exist, Madej.”

Shane stared at him for a moment, looking adorably exasperated. “You’re right, I can’t prove a negative. Because that’s _not how logic works_.”

“So you admit I’m right!” Ryan crowed, grinning so hard his cheeks hurt. 

“I-what, no.” Shane put his head in hand, covering his eyes for a moment. Then he looked up through his lashes, a soft smile on his face that made Ryan’s grin falter. “Ryan?”

“Yeah?” Ryan’s voice came out gentler than he had meant it to.

“I have to confess something.”

Ryan blinked and started to make a joke, but something about Shane’s expression made him stop. The other man looked serious. “Go ahead.”

Shane straightened, clasping his fingers together, then pressing them flat to the table. He opened his mouth, closed it, then dropped his eyes to study the beer in front of him. It took Ryan a minute to realize what he was seeing. 

Shane was _nervous_.

Ryan had never seen Shane nervous before. He hadn’t even been sure the man could get nervous. Abruptly apprehension stole over him. Just what could Shane be confessing that would make him so uncomfortable? Hell, he had come out to Ryan and then asked him out on a date within the same minute. Ryan couldn’t have done that in a million years. 

“I want you.”

“Uh-”

Shane held up his hand. “Please, let me continue.” His lips thinned and he looked almost angry at himself. Then he took a deep breath. “I want you. And I know you want me.” He said it so matter-of-factly that Ryan didn’t even register what he had said for a moment. “But I’ve had issues with relationships in the past. Usually it was my own fault. And I really want this to work between us. So.”

Looking up at Ryan, Shane said rotely, as if reading off of a page in front of him. “I’ve been diagnosed with a minor case of antisocial personality disorder. I have a very low level of empathy, I feel no remorse over manipulating others for my gain, I can be vocally aggressive, and if I hadn’t become a cop, I’d probably be a criminal.” He paused, a surprised expression flitting over his face. “I’ve never actually told anyone this that didn’t already know it.”

Ryan had a degree in Criminology. He had taken the required psychology classes and had heard these descriptors before. “What, like a sociopath?” he blurted without thinking after a tense, silent moment. 

That got him an ironic little half-smile. “More like psychopath, if we’re being pedantic.”

Ryan cringed, because wow, he was really good at sticking his own foot in his mouth. “I’m sorry, that was insensitive. But uh, I’ve been working with you for a little bit now. I’ve never seen you be all that impulsive or ignorant of what others are feeling.”

Shane raised an eyebrow even as he relaxed imperceptibly. “I did say that it was a minor case. I wouldn’t have made it into the academy if my therapist hadn’t okayed it. I’m a little impressed that you know what I’m talking about.”

“I did go to college, Madej.”

This smile was much more genuine. Vulnerable. It made something ache in Ryan’s chest. He fidgeted for a bit, unsure how to articulate what he was feeling, even to himself. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’m going to fuck up, Ryan. You said I’m not impulsive, but…” Shane trailed off, gaze distant. “Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

“Do you mean like cheating?”

Shane scoffed faintly. “Sure. Jessica thought so, anyways.”

“What does that mean?”

Shane leaned forward, gaze intent and serious. “I have never physically cheated on any romantic partner, nor do I have any interest in doing so.”

Ryan fell into those dark eyes. “I believe you,” he breathed, forgetting himself. Forgetting that he should have answered that with a joke, an insult, anything other than wide-eyed acceptance. “But then, why…?”

“Jessica made it clear that it didn’t have to be physical to be cheating.”

It took a second for Ryan to parse that. “You were dating other women?”

“I didn’t think I was. I thought it was just dinner with friends.” Shane grimaced, briefing looking away. “Sometimes I meet someone and they interest me. I just want to get to know them. I didn’t realize how it would look.”

Ryan thought of Jess, his first and closest friend at the station. He thought of how driven she was, how obsessed she could get with certain cases and how she laughed over bad movies. Their first real conversation had been about the Haunted Mansion at Disneyland. They had gone two weeks later. She was probably the first real friend he had made since becoming a detective. 

And then he looked at the man in front of him. A tall, gangly, weirdo who had shown up out of nowhere and had managed to worm his way into Ryan’s life after barely a week of working together. Who had opened up to him about an issue that many people honestly couldn’t handle.

He knew every couple had their own definitions of what was allowed in the relationship. What one couple found to be cheating would be completely okay with another couple. He also knew that this wasn’t the full story. Every event had multiple interpretations, all of them right and all of them wrong. 

From the stance of a friend, he knew who he should be feeling more sympathy towards. Jess deserved to tell her side of things, if she was willing. Ryan owed it to her to take everything Shane was saying with a grain of salt. But Jess wasn’t the one currently staring at him like he was some sort of salvation.

God damn it. He had always been a sucker for pretty eyes. 

For the first time in ten years, he felt the urge to hold man’s hand in public. Just for comfort, he told himself. But instead of giving in to that thought, he gently nudged Shane’s feet with one of his own. “Well, I think you’re getting ahead of yourself. I’m not a sure thing, Madej. You’re going to have to actually _try_. But. Uh, I do think it sounds like Jess was just over-reacting. You can date someone and be friends with other people.”

The other man stared at him. “Really? You mean that?”

“Yeah, I mean it. I’m not uh, mad or anything like that. You’re acting like I’m going to stop putting up with you, but you’ve grown on me. Like a really weird fungus.”

Well. That was a beautiful smile. 

“Of course I have, I am pretty awesome,” Shane said, smile widening when Ryan rolled his eyes. He tilted his head. “And you seem alright with the fact that I quite literally have a mental illness?”

“Nobody is perfect, Shane,” Ryan said. Then he snorted, determined to keep things light. There had been way too much emotion to handle. He refused to overreact like he had the last time Shane confessed something. “So you’re a dick sometimes. It's not like you’re going around killing people.”

Shane blinked, then let out a low laugh that brought a shiver to Ryan’s skin. His teeth gleamed in the light. “You’re adorable.”

“I-what?” Ryan squawked. “I’m trying to be nice here!”

It seemed Shane had no compunction against casually touching another man in public. His stupidly long arm reached across the table without problem. He squeezed Ryan’s wrist once, the touch feeling so much more significant than it actually was. “As weird as it is for me to say this, I was actually paying you a compliment. Now come on, let’s get out of here. This has been too much sappy shit for me.”

In a fog, dazzled by the warmth of Shane’s skin and the memory of his vulnerable smile, Ryan said, “Come to my apartment.”

His own words dawned on him, and Ryan scrambled to elaborate in the face of Shane’s surprised stare. “I mean, like Netflix. Let’s watch a movie.”

A truly evil grin spread over Shane’s face. “Ryan, did you just suggest Netflix and chill?” 

If it was possible to die from blushing, Ryan was sure he was about to find out. “No, you ass. That was so last year.”

“Isn’t that what the kids are calling it nowadays?”

“No, Madej, you’re not one with the youth. But I’m serious about the movie. We don’t have work tomorrow.” Even though he planned on going in anyways. “It’s not even ten yet. There’s a couple new horrors they just added.”

“Oh, you need me to protect you from the ghosts, I see now.”

Except that horror movies were not what Ryan was thinking about on the drive back to his apartment. Shane had taken an Uber to the restaurant, so now he sat in Ryan’s passenger seat, folded awkwardly into the car that was far too small for him. 

Ryan’s thoughts skittered from their conversation- something he was barely paying attention to- to the things Shane had revealed. But no matter what he was thinking of, he was constantly aware of the man’s presence. He knew Shane wasn’t doing it on purpose, but every time he gestured with his hands, Ryan would remember all over again how warm Shane was. He would think of that low, amused laugh, and then he’d completely lose the thread of whatever they were talking about. 

They made it to his apartment with Ryan driving on autopilot. He spared a brief thought for the relative messiness of his kitchen and living room, but fuck it. They were both bachelors, he doubted it wasn’t anything Shane hadn’t seen before. Surely he wouldn’t judge anything too harshly. 

Well, no, obviously Shane would judge him, because it was _Shane_ , but he had already admitted to himself that he enjoyed responding to the man's mockery too much to actually care. 

Shane was a distracting presence at his back as he unlocked his door. It made the hair on the back of his neck rise. “Mi casa es su casa,” Ryan said, trying to ignore the sudden rush of nerves. He flipped on his lights, then casually threw his jacket and keys onto a chair while toeing off his shoes. “Do you want anything to drink?”

He heard his door shut, then Shane said,“I didn’t get a chance to tell you that you looked good tonight.”

Ryan faltered on his way to the kitchen, twisting so that he could look over his shoulder at Shane. “And you actually managed to look like a human and not a Sasquatch,” Ryan said. Because jokes were safer than actually acknowledging that compliment. 

It was either that or tell Shane that the jeans and thin sweater he was wearing were going to star in some very inappropriate dreams. 

Shane rolled his eyes and _took off his sweater_. Underneath it was an honest to God T-shirt, something Ryan hadn’t thought he’d ever see on the man. It was tight enough to reveal hints of physique and surprisingly wide shoulders. Ryan felt like he’d been hit upside the head. He was completely floored, his mind melting out of his ears to pool somewhere around his feet.

“That’s just not fair,” Ryan said, wide-eyed. 

Shane frowned. “What?”

It was the real confusion in Shane’s eyes that made Ryan stalk over to him. How could the man not know how he looked? How could he waltz into Ryan’s apartment like this, with his tousled hair and stupidly expressive face and not know exactly what he was doing? 

There was a brief second where Ryan paused, his heart in his throat. This was such a bad idea. His stomach twisted and his hands were shaking slightly and -

_Oh God, I’m doing this._

Ryan wrapped one hand around the back of Shane’s head, raised to his toes, and kissed him. 

There was an awkward moment where Ryan was too aware of how he had to strain to reach Shane’s lips, of how his other hand was braced on Shane’s shoulder to keep himself balanced, and how Shane wasn’t responding.

Then there were hands at his hips and Shane dipped his head, lips moving against Ryan’s. Everything fell away, until all he could think about was the mouth above his, the nip of teeth and - _oh, that was tongue_. Ryan couldn’t help the little noise he made that was more breath than moan.

Shane’s fingers tightened, then he pulled his head away to give Ryan the most honestly delighted smile he had ever seen. “I thought this wasn’t a date?” Shane asked, laughter clear, even though his voice was shaky and rough. 

The idea that Ryan could make him sound like that after only one kiss made his stomach clench in nervous anticipation.

“You dick,” Ryan growled, using the fingers he had threaded into Shane’s hair to yank his head back down. He pressed until Shane’s back hit the door, the sound of the hinges rattling in their casings loud in the quiet room. It wasn’t loud enough to mask the bitten off gasp that Shane made, though. Ryan took the opportunity to swipe his tongue into Shane’s mouth, a thrill of sensation going up his spine at the feel of teeth and the brush of an answering tongue. 

This time he could appreciate the little details. The rasp of stubble that scratched across his mouth and the way his neck ached after even so little time, because damn, Shane was a tall fucker. The leftover taste of bitter beer made Ryan abruptly thankful that he hadn’t eaten anything with garlic.

It wasn’t the best or most coordinated kissing Ryan had ever been a part of, but by God, it had to be the most memorable. He had never had to stretch so far to reach, never had someone touch him with such gentle intensity. This man who had only known him for such a short amount of time was touching Ryan as if he wanted to leave bruises but couldn’t bear to hurt him. 

Shane’s hands slowly crept up Ryan’s sides, pressing lightly one moment, desperately clutching the next. It was as if he wanted to do everything and couldn’t choose, could only jump back and forth between the two extremes. It was a heady sensation to Ryan, knowing he was causing such a reaction. 

Fingers paused a little over halfway up Ryan’s ribs, strong thumbs sweeping across, pushing and tugging fabric as they went. There was a small hesitation, a slight stiffening in Shane’s form that Ryan probably wouldn’t have noticed if he hadn’t had his owns hands plastered against Shane’s shoulders. The other man pulled back a bare inch, huffing a little laugh against Ryan’s lips. Ryan took the opportunity to catch his breath and made a small questioning noise. 

From what Ryan could see of Shane’s expression from this close, he looked downright sheepish. “Habit, I guess,” he murmured, sounding breathless. “Still getting used to this.”

Ryan leaned back farther, staring at Shane and struggling to parse that sentence while most of his body was clamoring for him to go back to what they had been doing. It was difficult to think when important amounts of blood were going south. 

Then he thought of thumbs caressing their way across his chest and where exactly they had been. A sinking sensation settled low in his gut. He straightened and stepped away, though he couldn’t quite convince himself to let go of Shane entirely. The man gave him a confused, startled look. 

“I’m not a woman, Shane,” Ryan said, doing his best to keep his voice level. 

Shane smiled, a downright filthy look as he gave Ryan a slow, obvious once-over. “I did guess that, yes.”

This was such a mistake. Ryan knew this situation, this thing they were doing could only lead to heartbreak. Despite what he had said to Shane about being some kind of experiment, if it had only been about sex, this would have been easy. He knew for a fact that a friendship didn’t need to change just because two friends tumbled into bed. If he knew there’d be no consequences? It would have been a cold day in Hell before he would have turned down no-strings attached sex. Especially since it had been far too long since he’d seen any action. 

But Ryan had been falling for this fucking weird ass creep since day one. It didn’t take a genius to realize the feeling was mutual. And that was terrifying. Not only for the potential emotional fall out, but it was also career suicide. It would be impossible to completely hide a relationship in an office full of _detectives_. Ryan had worked too hard to get to where he was today to give that up for long legs and pretty eyes. 

Forcing himself to let go, Ryan took another couple steps back, trying to interject humor into his words. He had made a mistake in kissing Shane, but that didn’t mean he needed to make a big deal out of it. “You go for boobs that fast, Madej? I’m gay and even I know not to do that.”

Ryan blinked. His face twisted up into a confused frown for a second. Huh. He hadn’t said that out loud in years. 

Shane was watching him carefully, eyes narrowed even as he tried to match Ryan’s nonchalant humor. “Hey, a lot of women like it.” He paused, then moved away from the door. “Ryan? What’s wrong?”

Of course Shane wouldn’t take the hint, of-fucking-course. 

“We can’t do this,” Ryan blurted abruptly, gesturing between the two of them. 

“Why?”

“Why?” Ryan repeated, hating how his voice went high-pitched, but not able to stop himself. “We can’t risk our careers for a quick fuck, Shane-

“Quick? Excuse-”

“-And just what are you expecting? Sex? Dating? Am I supposed to throw away everything for a coworker that I met two months ago? What happens when we break up and I have to deal with that stigma for the rest of my career?”

“Ry-”

“I’m not outing myself for you!” Ryan’s shout echoed slightly and he cringed, suddenly aware of how loud he had gotten. Adrenaline rushed through him, his heart pounding wildly enough that he could feel it beating against his ribs. He stared, wide-eyed, at Shane, panting slightly. The other man, for once, looked honestly taken aback. 

Ryan himself was a little shocked. How had they gone from making out against the door to Ryan shouting his insecurities at Shane? 

Shane walked towards him cautiously, with his hands up to show his empty palms, his expression sympathetic. Ryan recognized it as the stance cops took when approaching a potentially traumatized or distressed citizen. Ryan didn’t appreciate the comparison. 

“Ryan, take a deep breath. Calm down.” Even Shane’s voice was the soothing tone they had both been trained in. 

“Stop that,” Ryan said, scowling. “I know what you’re doing.”

Shane hesitated, then quirked his lips in something resembling a smile. “Sorry. Habit.” He then grimaced. “I should stop saying that.”

Ryan drug his fingers through his hair in agitation, frowning briefly when he remembered he’d put product in it earlier. Now his fingers were sticky and his hair probably looked stupid. Fuck, that seemed like such a long time ago. 

Suddenly Shane was right there, his fingertips just lightly brushing Ryan’s chin, tilting his head up until he could meet Shane’s eyes. He should have jerked away, but there was something so gentle about Shane’s touch that he held still, breathless. “Ryan. I’m not asking you to out yourself.” Shane’s fingers drifted down to Ryan’s neck, a feathery touch that was disconcertingly distracting. “And yeah, I want to date you. But I’ll take you however I can. Sex, just friends, partners, I don’t care. Whatever I can get.”

Ryan had almost grown used to the way Shane’s eyes would occasionally turn dark, his smile taking on a subdued dangerous edge that spoke of meticulous control. It was just another part of what made up Shane. 

What he saw now was the complete opposite. While his expression was downright serene, Shane’s eyes were lit with a manic gleam, something about the way he was looking at him reminding Ryan of a fire, burning everything in its path. 

It shouldn’t have been as attractive as it was. 

Half-remembered statistics and trends ran through Ryan’s mind, about people with obsessive personalities and the objects of their focus. About the kinds of damage that could result in an obsession gone wrong. Hell, he’d seen first hand what could happen when a short, passionate relationship exploded. Most homicides were not premeditated. Most were the result of cheating lovers or abuse gone too far. 

Ryan should have been alarmed. He knew that kind of infatuation was not healthy. Judging from his own wild mood swings this evening, he wasn’t immune either. He was right there with Shane when it came to being too obsessed. This could only end poorly. 

But Shane was looking at him as if he would do anything Ryan asked, no matter how impossible or insane. As if he would destroy the world just to lay it at Ryan’s feet. 

God help him, Ryan _liked_ it.

The thought of all of that bright, sharp focus on him was intoxicating. 

This had all been so much easier when it was just a harmless crush. Why couldn’t he have fallen for someone normal? 

Shane’s eyes flicked down deliberately to Ryan’s lips, then moved all over his face, searching for something. He cocked his head slightly, his usual mocking smile doing nothing to hide the intensity of his gaze. “Your hair looks like shit, by the way.”

And _that_ , that right there was why Ryan could fool himself into believing that this was more than just lust and obsession. Never in his life had he found a man who could so easily match his own particular brand of humor, who knew so well when to crack a tasteless joke and when to lay off. 

“Shut up, Shane,” Ryan responded on reflex. “Like you have any room to talk.”

Shane smirked, the little moment of familiar banter doing absolutely nothing to dispel the tense situation. His hand drifted down across Ryan’s shoulder, then swept back, eventually settling against his neck. His thumb brushed lightly down Ryan’s jaw, a gentle touch that caused a compulsive shiver. The softness of the gesture was pure contradiction to the way Shane was looking at him.

“This is such a bad idea.” 

That gleam in his eyes seemed to brighten. Shane leaned forward, looming in a way that made Ryan’s fight or flight instincts take notice. “‘This’? Or me?”

Ryan made a decision.

“You. You are definitely a bad idea,” Ryan said, stretching onto his toes and tilting his face up, feeling like he was making a deal with the Devil. 

“I never said I wasn’t,” Shane growled before surging forward, claiming Ryan’s mouth in a searing kiss that clashed teeth together, pinched Ryan’s lip, and made him whimper in sudden surprise and pain. 

It was the single hottest kiss he had ever experienced. 

Where before, Shane had kept himself under control, had tried to be gentle, there didn’t seem to be anything holding him back now. His hands wrapped around Ryan’s ribs, pressing him so close that Ryan was bent back, unable to do much more than take it for a second.

But while Shane was stronger than he looked, Ryan was no lightweight, and he wasn’t about to passively let Shane run the show. He brought his hands up and pressed hard against Shane’s chest, pushing him until they were straightened up. 

Judging by the noise Shane made, he liked being a little manhandled. 

Shane’s hands were suddenly under Ryan’s shirt, fingers rough against sensitive skin. Nails scratched across Ryan’s nipple and he jerked his head back to hiss, “Still not a woman, Madej.”

The man laughed, a low, deep sound, and shifted the two of them until Ryan was straddling his thigh. There was no mistaking how hard Ryan was in this position. “Trust me, I know,” Shane said, leering.

Ryan groaned, half in pleasure, half exasperated. “Fuck, I can’t believe I set myself up for that.”

Hands still trapped under Ryan’s shirt slid around to his shoulder blades and it felt like Shane’s wide palms and long fingers spanned the expanse of his back. The idea of those hands on the rest of his body made him press closer, making aborted little motions with his hips that felt far too good considering he was still wearing jeans. 

“Should I prove to you that I know exactly what I’m getting into?” Shane asked in a gruff, rumbling voice, deeper than he had ever heard out of the man. Ryan nodded before he entirely understood what had been said. 

Suddenly those large hands were under his thighs, lifting him just enough that Shane was able to perch Ryan on the back of his couch. The tips of his toes just reached the floor. Ryan had one moment to be impressed, because even though the three steps to his couch weren’t all that far, Ryan wasn’t light. Then fingers tangled into his hair and pulled his head back, until he was staring at his own ceiling. 

There was a mouth attached to the side of his neck, a hot tongue swirling wet patterns across his skin. Occasionally teeth scraped, causing a shudder down his spine. If it hadn’t been for the fingers digging hashly into his hip and pulling his head back at such an awkward angle, it would have been almost relaxing. 

And then Shane made a hungry noise, ducked down even farther, and settled his teeth on either side of Ryan’s Adam’s apple. Ryan froze, intensely aware of just how little pressure was needed to make this an incredibly painful experience. It was such a vulnerable area and Ryan knew how easy it was to seriously injure someone by hitting their throat. He’d never contemplated what would happen if someone bit there hard enough. 

A faint sensation of suction and Ryan couldn’t hold back a whimper. He swallowed, the motion moving Shane’s teeth. The fingers in his hair tightened to the point of pain, but he couldn’t react, afraid of what would happen if he moved too suddenly. 

He’d never been so aroused in his life. This night was apparently setting all kinds of records.

There was an increase of pressure, just enough that he could feel his skin indent under Shane’s teeth. Just when he started to feel a real flicker of worry, the man pulled back, breathing hard like he had been running. 

Shane didn’t give Ryan time to respond or even ask what the hell that had been about. Suddenly Shane was on his knees, looking up at Ryan with a wild, needy expression. He unbuttoned Ryan’s jeans with shaky fingers, but it didn’t look like he was nervous. There was no hesitation in his movements as he jerked Ryan’s pants and boxers down. Ryan could only watch him, wide-eyed and staring, not quite believing what was happening.

There was no pausing, no time to think. Ryan barely managed to say Shane’s name, the sound ending in a breathless grunt as Shane swallowed his erection down like he had been starving for it. 

Ryan gripped onto the couch as if his life depended on it, cast adrift and thoroughly confused at how fast this was happening. It took all of his willpower to not thrust into Shane’s mouth, though, since his dick was more than happy with the situation. 

It was obvious Shane had never done this before. He was breathing too harshly through his nose and he didn’t seem to know what to do with his tongue. More than once he had to pull back to keep from gagging, but he never stopped for long, returning to sucking Ryan’s cock with a single-minded determination that left Ryan unable to do much more than hang on for the ride. 

It was sloppy and fumbling, more like the kind of amateur blow jobs Ryan had received in the back of a car in high school. But something about the way Shane kept looking at him, stubborn and vulnerable by turns, was making this unbearably hot. Ryan breathed quiet moans and murmurs of praise, barely able to say anything coherent. 

Then Shane’s hands left his thighs and Ryan heard rustling noises and the sound of pants being unbuttoned and unzipped. From his angle, he couldn’t see exactly what was going on. But he could see the telltale movements of Shane’s upper arm and shoulder and -

_Holy shit, he’s getting off on this._

Until this moment, even with what Shane was currently doing with his mouth, there had been a lingering worry that he had exaggerated his abrupt change in sexuality. That he had gone this far out of sheer pigheadedness and the need to prove himself. There was a real fear that they would reach a certain point and Shane would back away, hands raised and try to ‘no homo’ his way out of all of this. Ryan hadn’t been sure what he would do if that happened. It had been a thought in the back of his head that had gnawed away at his confidence, making it hard for him to completely commit to the situation. 

But Shane had just taken that worry and stomped all over it. Judging by the way his breathing had turned erratic, with his eyes squeezed shut and the uncoordinated way he was trying to keep sucking, he was just as turned on as Ryan was. 

There was no way Ryan was going to last long after knowing that. 

He bucked forward without meaning to, but before he could even try to apologize, Shane groaned and hooked one hand around the back of Ryan’s knee. He squeezed once and then began dragging his palm up and down Ryan’s calf in short little strokes, pulling just enough to encourage Ryan to move.

Ryan wasn’t sure if Shane was trying to worship him or break him.

Everything in Ryan’s body started to tense, and he frantically tugged at Shane’s hair to warn him to pull off. Shane just opened his eyes and stared at him. Then he took a deep breath and surged forward until his nose bumped into Ryan’s pelvis, swallowing all at once. There were tears in the corners of his eyes from gagging. 

Ryan came silently, mouth stretched open in a soundless groan, curled over Shane and unable to look away.

Shane swallowed messily, come dripping out of his mouth before his tongue swiped out to catch it. 

That was an image that Ryan was going to take to his grave. 

There was a quiet grunt and a shudder, then Shane slumped forward, face mashed into Ryan’s thighs. The sound alone was enough to make a wave of faint arousal flood through him, and his cock twitched gamely.

It was really, _really_ unfortunate that he was suddenly so tired. 

The weight of Shane’s head on his legs was probably the only reason Ryan was still upright on the back of his couch. His muscles felt like wet noodles. He tenderly scraped his fingers across Shane’s scalp, suddenly overcome with far too much emotion.

“Holy shit,” he finally breathed. 

Even though he couldn’t see Shane’s face, he knew the man was smirking. He tugged lightly at Shane’s hair in retaliation, but didn’t have the energy for anything else. 

“Please don’t make me regret this,” Ryan said into the deep silence without thinking. It was a half-hearted plea at best. He was too cynical to not think _something_ would get fucked up because of this. 

Shane went still. After a long moment, he rolled his head until he could look up at Ryan. There was something in his expression that Ryan couldn’t interpret. Or maybe he didn't want to interpret it.

Finally, he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to the top of Ryan’s thigh. 

He never actually replied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm...
> 
> Well that was a sex scene. This is a little embarrassing. 
> 
> Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos!I hope this chapter didn’t scare any of you away :P


	8. Chapter 8

Ryan didn’t really sleep that night. 

There had been a brief gut-churning moment where he had expected Shane to go home, but the man had just followed him into his bedroom instead. Ryan had told himself that there was no point in making a big deal out of it, since it was already late. 

The problem wasn’t that it was awkward, or even that Shane made Ryan’s respectably sized mattress look like it was for children. Shane had fallen into one side of the bed like he owned the thing. Clad in only boxers and his T-shirt, curled up under the blanket so his long ass legs didn’t extend off the end, he had looked a little too much like he belonged there. He had watched Ryan stand there uncertainly before rolling his eyes with a mocking little smile and flipping the blanket back in invitation. 

Ryan had scowled and obnoxiously clambered into the bed, making a point to take up as much room as he normally did, because damn it, they were two grown men who had just gotten each other off, they could sleep in the same bed without acting like they were going to get cooties. 

Shane had just laughed, wrapped one hand around Ryan’s wrist, and then went to sleep. Just like that. After awhile, Ryan managed to do the same. 

The problem, one that he hadn’t even thought of, was that Ryan hadn’t shared a bed with _anyone_ since the last time he’d had an actual boyfriend. In his Junior year of college. Even his occasional one-night stands had never stayed. 

Every time Shane shifted, or rolled, or just breathed a little differently, Ryan would wake up. It wasn’t like the man even moved all that much. It would have been nightmarish if Shane had been the type to starfish his limbs all over while asleep, but apparently a life of being too long for most beds meant that he kept mostly still. 

Usually, Ryan would just surface into awareness for a handful of seconds before falling back under. But sometimes, he would lay awake for minutes at a time, staring into the dark and intensely aware of the warm body next to him. 

It hadn’t been a very restful night. 

Now, Ryan stirred, drowsily blinking his eyes open. Shane was lying on his side, staring at Ryan with an indecipherable expression. Ryan groaned upon seeing him and nuzzled his pillow tiredly. “Stop staring, you creep,” he muttered, eyes narrowed blearily. “Go back to sleep.”

Shane raised one eyebrow, the motion a little goofy when lying down. “It’s already nine.”

“Ugh,” Ryan groaned again. “It’s Sunday, dude. We can sleep in.”

We. That was a mindfuck.

Shane continued to stare at him, his lips pressed into a straight line and brow furrowed. He didn’t look upset, which Ryan had half-expected, but he was obviously thinking hard about something. 

“Hey,” Ryan said softly. “You freaking out?”

His response was a slow blink, then Shane lifted one hand, wiggling it in a ‘so-so’ gesture. 

“Ah,” Ryan managed, trying to hide the feeling of disappointment. He rolled over and started to sit up, figuring he should give the man some space.“Guess I’ll go take-”

There was an exasperated little sigh, then suddenly an arm snaked around Ryan’s waist to haul him closer. Long legs tangled with his, effectively trapping him against Shane. His back was pressed in a long line down the man’s chest, and it was far more comfortable than it should have been. “It’s not for the reasons you’re thinking of, idiot.” 

From this close, Shane’s voice rumbled, deep and raspy from sleep. It was unfairly attractive. 

“It’s okay to be unsure, big guy,” Ryan said, conveniently ignoring how hypocritical he was being. Forgetting for the moment that waking up in bed with another man was going to drive him insane from the pure number of contradictory emotions he was feeling. Just because he could give alright advice didn’t mean he had to follow it.

Shane shook his head, his chin brushing against Ryan’s hair. “You’ve got the shitty confidence of a pre-teen girl with braces. I don’t understand it.”

“Fuck you,” Ryan instantly replied, annoyed. “I’ve got plenty of confidence.”

“Uh huh. Which is why you looked like you thought I was going to kick you out of your own bed.”

“It’s not that, it’s…” Ryan trailed off, making an inarticulate noise of frustration. “This is a mess. We’re a mess. And everyone is going to find out. Fuck, you know how fast gossip spreads, they probably already know somehow, like some kind of freaky ESP.”

There was a long pause, then Shane awkwardly asked, “Is this about being gay? ‘Cause it’s fine that you are.”

Ryan closed his eyes, pained. “Oh my God. Seriously? You’re fucking spooning me, I’m aware that you’re fine with it.” Without really meaning to, he wrapped his hand around the arm that was holding him. It felt...nice. “Look, I’m not some self-hating gay guy that advertises for bro-jobs on Craigslist and then says no homo.”

Shane let out a surprised snort of laughter. 

“It’s just…” Ryan continued. “It’s just easier.”

“Easier?”

“If everyone thinks you’re straight.”

“It’s 2018, I don’t think anyone really cares anymore.”

Ryan had to pause and forcibly remind himself that until startlingly recently, Shane had thought he was straight as they came. Hell, he was a straight, white, male in a position of authority. Not to say that he had never had issues, since he even admitted to having problems, but prejudice had probably never really been one of them. There was no use getting angry at him. Maybe he needed context. 

Christ, he’d only been awake for handful of minutes and they were already breaking out the heavy conversations. Would it be too early to get into his stash of heavy liquor?

“I came out as soon as I graduated high school,” Ryan said, focusing on where their fingers had become interlaced. He didn’t even remember doing that. “My parents were mostly fine with it. I’ve got a brother, so it wasn’t like I was the only one that could carry on the family name and all of that. And college was alright. Did the usual thing, partying, drinking, dating. And it was college, so no one gave a fuck.” He sighed. “When I started at the Academy, I didn’t bother to hide it. And nothing too bad happened. I mean, sure, I got called a twink and a fag almost daily and half the men refused to go into the locker rooms when I was there, but it wasn’t terrible.”

Ryan paused, then grimaced. “Well, I did get punched once, but that ended okay, so.”

Shane’s arm tightened around him. “Who the fuck punched you?” 

It was a little heartening to hear how angry Shane sounded, but Ryan just shrugged. “Some guy with an attitude. He didn’t like that I was doing better than him. If hadn’t been about me being gay, it would have been a race thing or something else. Doesn’t matter though, because he got kicked out.”

“I still want to know his name.”

Ryan smiled, glad that Shane couldn’t see the expression. “Anyways, once the precinct hired me, I just kept it to myself, you know? And it was so much easier. People saw me for me, not the gay kid trying to be a cop. I guess, after a couple years, it just got built up in my head. And there’s no way I would have made detective so fast if anyone had known. I don’t want to jeopardize that. I’ve worked too hard.”

Breath stirred his hair and then - _oh, he just kissed my head_. Ryan blinked a few times at his bedroom door, mind blank.

There was a long, almost comfortable silence. Ryan wasn’t sure why, but explaining his situation had released much of the tension running through his muscles. He felt oddly relaxed.

Or maybe it was because he was still tired. Why the hell were they doing this at nine in the morning?

“Other than about three people, I’ve never really cared what anyone thought of me,” Shane said eventually, sounding contemplative. “I have to admit that I can’t really relate. But I can understand your worry about this affecting your career. I’ll follow your lead on this, okay?”

Curiosity and stupid hope made Ryan ignore most of that statement and he asked, “What three people?”

Shane sighed, but it sounded fond. “My mother, my therapist, and you.”

Well, that was sweet, overwhelming, and what? Ryan twisted, managing to turn til he faced Shane. “Your therapist?” he asked incredulously.

Shane nodded, mockingly serious. “Of course. He keeps me sane.”

“He’s obviously failing.”

“He helps me fake it, then,” Shane said, suddenly grinning. “He’s the one that told me to seize the opportunities that life gave me, and I’m rather enjoying where that’s gotten me.” He wiggled his eyebrows in an exaggerated leer. 

Ryan groaned, but didn’t bother to hide his smile. “You’re a fucking goof.”

Abruptly, Shane rolled on top of him, bracing his forearms on either side of Ryan’s head. “To be clear, I’m glad you’re gay. Otherwise this would be really awkward.”

Despite the sudden spark of arousal that shot through Ryan at the feel of Shane’s body pressing him down, he couldn’t help but laugh, grinning up at the other man with a too fond expression. Shane kissed him mid-laugh, then pulled back, making a face. “Brushing teeth would be good.”

Ryan spluttered and pushed at him. They both tumbled out of the bed and took turns in the bathroom. Ryan offered Shane a towel and a new toothbrush, which Shane accepted with a raised eyebrow. Then Ryan stood awkwardly outside the bathroom door. He was trying to decide if he was supposed to join Shane in the shower, when he heard the man sarcastically ask him if he was just going to stand there all day. 

Taking that as the challenge it was, he jerked open the door and wow. That was a lot of naked man. For some reason, Ryan felt like he should be congratulating Shane. Because yeah, everything was proportional. 

Shane stood there with a smug little smirk and that just couldn’t be allowed. 

Ryan didn’t think that either of them actually got very clean. He was too busy laughing at Shane’s attempts to fit under the showerhead and Shane kept trying to get him to shut up by cornering him against the wall and kissing him. Ryan was fairly certain he was going to end up with marks on his neck from the number of times Shane started nibbling and sucking the skin at his throat. 

It ended in a mutually beneficial way, with Ryan pressed between the shower wall and Shane, writhing and gasping. It was going to make upcoming showers for Ryan difficult, that was for sure. Not that he was going to complain. 

There was disturbingly domestic half hour where they danced around each other in the kitchen, exchanging coffee and quickly fried eggs and bacon like they’d been doing it for years. It left Ryan feeling unsettled, so he tried not to think about it. 

He offered to drive Shane home, since it wouldn’t be that far out of his way to work, but Shane just shrugged and said he had paperwork to finish. The entire drive was silent, but comfortable. Ryan had a brief daydream of what it could be like to have this every day, for this to become a routine, just the two of them driving into work. It was clearly a pipedream, but it was a tempting one.

Just as they parked, Shane took Ryan’s hand and squeezed once. Ryan could appreciate that Shane wasn’t trying for anything more while in plain sight of the precinct building, so he sent the man a grateful smile. 

They went their separate ways once they walked in. Ryan had decided to go over some of the files from the first two cases known to be perpetrated by the Lover, and he couldn’t do that at home. Sensitive information wasn’t allowed to leave the building, though he knew for a fact that more than one detective took their work home with them. 

Since Ryan didn’t want anything to jeopardize the legitimacy of his findings, he was sticking to protocol. It wasn’t exactly a hardship to come in on his day off, anyways. He only planned on being there for a couple of hours at most. 

He didn’t realize he was humming, until a figure dropped into Shane’s chair. 

“Somebody got laid,” Jess said, the teasing clear in her voice. 

“Uh,” Ryan startled and stared at her, mouth open in surprise. “Jess? What’re you doing here? It’s Sunday.”

She held up a coffee mug in explanation. “Lunch break. Intern called in sick, so I’m filling in. I’m a little surprised to find you here.”

Jess looked tired, but otherwise fine, with her golden hair pulled back into a complicated arrangement that drew attention to her high cheekbones, and subtle makeup. Ryan was glad to see that she was in a better mood. She’d looked terrible the last time he had seen her. He smiled, suddenly eager to catch up with his friend. “I wanted to look at some files for a little bit, since I had a thought. But are you free tonight? We should hang out, it’s been awhile.” 

“We should,” Jess said, amused. “And you can tell me who the lucky person is.”

Ryan knew he was blushing, but all he could do was shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Jess took a sip of her coffee, then gestured towards him. “You probably should have worn something that hides those hickies.”

Instinctively, Ryan’s hand flew up to cover his neck. Jess took one look at him and burst into laughter. 

“Wow, thanks for falling for that,” she gasped after a moment. “That’s like the oldest trick in the book.”

Ryan tried to glare at her, but his smile betrayed him. It really was good to see her happy again. “Shut up. You’re delusional. Go back to work or something.”

She snorted and stood up, just as Shane was walking into the room. “I’ll text you when I’m...free...” Her brow furrowed as she caught sight of Shane. 

With a sudden sense of dread, Ryan became all too aware that Shane was still wearing last night’s clothes. Amongst the uniforms and ties of the rest of the officers in the room, his lanky form in jeans and a sweater stood out like sore thumb. And no one would mistake him for a plainclothes officer.

Shane made his way towards them, his expression flat. “Jessica,” he said with obvious wariness. And then his eyes flickered towards Ryan’s, and his lips twitched into a small, barely there smile. 

Jess wasn’t a detective, but she didn’t have to be one to see what was right in front of her. Her fingers tightened around her mug until her knuckles went white. 

“So you’re a queer now?” she asked abruptly, voice low, almost a growl. 

“Jess-” Ryan started, eyes darting around the room.

She shot him a glare that instantly shut him up. Then she turned that murderous expression on Shane. “Or were you always that way? Do I have to wonder how many men you cheated on me with?”

“Jessica, now is not the time,” Shane said coldly. “Not unless you want to do this in a room full of cops.” 

For some reason, that made Jess falter. Her mouth pursed into a thin line, then she took one step towards Shane. “This isn’t over,” she hissed at him, so quietly that even Ryan barely heard it. With one last glare at the two of them, she stalked away, movements stiff and jerky. 

“Fuck,” Ryan breathed, wide-eyed. He was nervous that someone had overheard that exchange, but mostly he felt like shit. Not once during the day had he thought about Shane’s previous relationship with Jess. Of course she would have been able to piece things together. She probably felt so betrayed. By the both of them.

“It’s fine,” Shane said, almost absently, as he continued to stare after Jess with a frown. “I’ll talk to her.”

Ryan shook his head, amazed that Shane could say that when the situation was obviously not _fine_. The absolute opposite of fine would be a better description. “Maybe we should give her some space,” he suggested. “I don’t- well, I don’t want her doing anything rash.”

Shane actually turned to look at him, his gaze piercing. Eventually, he nodded. “Alright.”

There was no way Ryan was going to get any work done after that, so he quietly gathered up his things to leave, then hesitated and turned back. “I-uh, could take you home?”

Even in the midst of saying it, he felt like he needed to go apologize to Jess. If she caught sight of the two of them leaving together, it would be adding salt to the wound. But if he was already a part of this mess, he might as well do it right. He’d made his choice last night, even if he hadn’t expected it to bite him on the ass quite so fast. 

Shane smiled then, a charming, apologetic little tilt to his lips. “Since I’m here, I might as well finish that paperwork I was talking about it. Thanks, though.” Then, as if sensing Ryan’s disappointment, he leaned over the desk between them, his smile turning playful. “Text me tomorrow.”

The overly exaggerated wink really wasn’t necessary, but it startled Ryan into a wheezed laugh. 

\-----------------------------

Ryan woke up to an empty bed, aching for a presence that he had no business in missing. He rolled over and punched his pillow with a frustrated growl, disgusted with himself. One night with a man and he was already pining for something he didn’t actually have. He didn’t deserve to feel this way, this nervous giddiness at even the thought of Shane. 

_Why don’t I deserve this?_

The thought was quiet. An insidious whisper of feeling under his longing and frustration that he probably wouldn’t have heard if he had been more awake and full of caffeine. Ryan stilled, mind repeating the thought over and over again. Why _didn’t_ he deserve to feel normal? When it came down to it, this mix of fluttery excitement and nerves was no different from what anyone else felt when starting a relationship. What made him any different? 

As long as he didn’t start shouting about it at the top of his lungs, there was no one to stop him. Even if his co-workers and the Chief found out about it, the force was ostensibly an equal opportunity employer. They didn’t even have to worry about fraternization rules, because neither of them were in a higher position than the other. 

It startled Ryan that he was apparently okay with people knowing. That at some point, he had subconsciously made the decision to fight for what he wanted. Maybe, in a perverse way, Jess’ reaction had convinced him. Yes, she had been angry, but that anger had been directed mostly at Shane, not him. And it made sense for her to be angry. Ryan had seen enough in college and highschool to know that very few people reacted well to finding out their friend was dating their ex. 

Thinking back on it, before finding out who it was with, she had seemed genuinely pleased that he had gotten some action. He thought back to how she had asked the identity of the lucky ‘person’, and wow, how had he not noticed the gender neutral pronoun there? 

There was a moment where he felt a moment of chagrin, because just how many people had already figured out his biggest secret? But that was quickly overwhelmed by a giddy determination. 

When it came down to it, the only person that any of this should matter to was Shane, and he’d already given a big green light to anything that Ryan wanted. 

Ryan grabbed his phone from his nightstand, checking the time to see that it was already ten. He scrolled through his contacts, tapping Shane’s name before this newfound confidence could drain away. 

The phone only rang twice before Shane picked up.

“Ryan,” he said, sounding amused and...out of breath? “It hasn’t even been a full day, you’re looking a little desperate.”

“Fuck you, Madej,” Ryan said, laughing and grinning up at his bedroom ceiling like a teenage girl talking to her crush. This entire situation was really playing havoc with his whole ‘bro’ image. 

Shane made a contemplative noise, then said, “Maybe if you play your cards right.”

Ryan’s heart tripped, his mouth hanging open. He knew that Shane was just teasing him, but the sudden realization that maybe he wasn’t entirely joking had apparently shut down Ryan’s ability to think. He must have made some sort of incriminating noise, because Shane laughed, a low, deep sound that was simultaneously mocking and unfairly _masculine_. 

Shane also sounded a little breathless, and there were rustling noises going on in the background that Ryan couldn’t quite make out. He self-consciously cleared his throat, hoping that his voice wasn’t about to break. 

“Am I interrupting something?” he asked, pointedly refusing to respond to Shane’s previous statement. 

“Hmm. Running, taking trash out.”

“You run?” Ryan asked incredulously. 

“No need to sound so surprised.”

That would help explain why Shane was stronger than he looked, but the mental image of that human stick bug wearing jogging shorts and a tank top was mind boggling - _hot_ \- and hilarious. Ryan didn’t bother to hide his laugh. “Alright John Wall, I believe you-”

“I have no idea who that is.”

“-Do you want to come over tonight?” Ryan asked, then gasped. “Wait, you don’t know who John Wall is? You know what, nevermind, I’m rescinding my invitation.”

“What am I, a vampire?” Shane returned. There was a huff of breath and the sound of something dropping. “Sorry Ry, I’d really like to, but I’m helping a friend clean their apartment tonight. They’re moving soon.”

Well, that was a disappointment, but the familiar way Shane had said ‘Ry’ made all kinds of gooey, disgusting feelings happen. “That’s a thing people do?”

“Yes, unlike you, some people like living in a clean home.”

“Wow. See if I ever invite you again.”

Ryan could hear the leer coming through quite clearly. “Oh I think you will. I’ve got to go now, but I’ll see you at work tomorrow, Ryan.”

“Text me, you dick,” Ryan said before hanging up and staring at his phone. He felt oddly confused. That had gone surprisingly well. Yes, Shane had turned him down, but it hadn’t felt like a brush off. He’d sounded genuinely disappointed that he couldn’t come over tonight. 

Asking Shane out had been weirdly easy. 

Maybe they could actually do this. 

Filled with a sudden, bubbling energy, Ryan went about the rest of his day with a smile. Sometimes he had to push away guilt over Jess, guilt over the two men killed because of him and the people who had yet to be killed. But he knew he shouldn’t put his own personal life on hold. 

Not that the case was willing to let him go, it seemed. 

He was in the middle of the grocery store when Hayes called him. Ryan swore softly, his heart sinking even as he shifted his items to one arm, fumbling until he could get his phone to his ear. 

“I’m beginning to hate it when you call, Hayes,” was Ryan’s greeting.

Hayes snorted and said, “You sound like my ex-wife. Sorry to call you on your day off, but we’ve got another email.”

“Shit. What does it say?”

“More cryptic bullshit. Think it boils down to there being another body soon. We put out an APB for any suspicious homicides, but nothing yet.”

“Fuck,” Ryan said, leaning against a shelf of cereal and ignoring the glare of some little old lady passing by. He hesitated, not really sure how to articulate his question, but he had to ask. “Is there anything creepy about me this time?”

“No worse than the last one, though the Lover is implying he went after a woman.”

“I don’t like this guy switching up his victims like this,” Ryan said, frowning. “Do you need me to come in?”

Hayes sighed, a tired, weary noise. “No, we don’t even have a body yet. I just wanted to let you know what was going on, just in case we do end up calling you in later tonight. Enjoy your time off.”

Ryan absently said goodbye, his mind whirling. What did it mean that the Lover had gone after a woman again? And how the hell was he so good at sending emails that couldn’t be tracked? Ryan kept hoping that some of the IT lab rats would get back to him, but apparently tracking that kind of activity could be harder than he would have thought. 

His phone buzzed in his hand and he startled. He was surprised to see that it was a text from Jess. 

“When it rains, it pours,” he muttered to himself. Then he shook his head, braced himself, and swiped open the message. 

_U free tonight?_

Ryan awkwardly replied with one hand, making his way towards the cash registers. 

_> Yeah_

_Want to go out? I want to apologize_

Unsure if he was seeing things, Ryan read that message a few more times, just to be sure he was understanding it correctly. Jess apologizing was about as rare as a solar eclipse and probably just as damaging to the eyes. 

_> Bar at 10th?_

_My place?_

Ryan thought about it, but if the situation became awkward, he’d rather be in a public space. It wasn’t that he thought Jess would actually start a fight, but it was better to be safe than sorry. He really did hope that their friendship could be salvaged. 

_> Don’t want to drive that far. Work tomorrow_

He didn’t get a reply until he had already paid for his groceries and was in his car. 

_Fine. Bar at 10th. See u at 8_

\--------------------------------

Jess looked like she was dressed for a date, in a flattering black dress, strappy sandals that laced up to her knees, and impeccable makeup. Despite her gorgeous looks, she didn’t go out often, so she took every opportunity she had to dress up. That was just one more facet to her personality that Ryan realized he knew about her. God, he really had left her in the dust since Shane had shown up, hadn’t he?

Even as Ryan walked up to her, there was a blonde man trying to chat her up. She caught his eye from behind the man, rolling her eyes slightly.

At the familiar gesture, Ryan relaxed a little. She didn’t look like she was about to leap off the chair and start punching him, so that was a plus. He slid into the chair next to hers, giving the hopeful man a clear ‘back off’ glare.

“Hey, Jess.”

“Hey, Ryan,” she said, turning her back on the blonde without any hesitation. The man took it calmly enough, and he just shrugged and walked away. 

“I see you’re already breaking hearts,” Ryan said with a teasing smile. 

She snickered into her drink. “Just the one, I haven’t been here that long.”

Ryan nodded, then hesitated. He wasn’t entirely sure what to say. He knew he should apologize, but he wasn’t really sure how to start that conversation. There wasn’t a polite way to say ‘by the way, I’m gay and sleeping with your ex.’ 

Luckily, Jess took the initiative. “So I overreacted yesterday.”

Ryan made a weird little gesture with his hands, trying to wave away the idea. “No, it’s fine. We-I, uh, I should have said something.”

She raised one eyebrow at him. “Ryan, I’d known you for two years before I knew your brother’s name. And you never told me you were gay. You’re not a very open individual.”

“I…” Ryan trailed off. She wasn’t wrong, really. “I guess you knew anyways?” He made it a question, even if he was pretty sure of the answer. 

Jess nodded, then shrugged and gave him an embarrassed smile. “The first time you met me, you complimented my shoes. Which, yes, I shouldn’t stereotype, but that gave me a clue. And you never responded to my flirting.”

Ryan blinked. “You were flirting with me?”

That got him a disbelieving little laugh. “Yes, Ryan, I was flirting with you. For my own ego, I assumed you were gay instead of thinking that I was that unattractive.” 

“Jess, you’re a goddess and you know it.”

She snorted, which wasn’t very ladylike, but that had never stopped her. “Thanks,” she said wryly. “And hey, turned out I was right. Anyways, the reason I got so angry was Shane. Madej,” she corrected herself with a frown. “I suppose you know we dated?”

“Yeah. You don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to, Jess. I understand,” Ryan said softly. He ignored the feeling of his phone buzzing in his pants pocket. 

“I don’t really want to go into detail, I just thought you should know that I wasn’t angry at you. Not really. I know how charming Madej can be.” Jess smiled. It was a melancholy expression. “I kind of thought he was the one, you know? He didn’t agree, obviously.” 

Ryan itched to defend Shane or ask for more detail, but he kept his mouth shut. Jess was being amazingly understanding about this and he really didn’t want to upset her. 

“Well,” Jess said, glancing up at him. Her eyes glittered in the bar lights. “I guess none of that is going to matter soon.” Ryan started to ask her what she meant by that, but she didn’t let him finish. “Let me buy you a drink as an apology.” 

“Jess, there’s really no need-”

“Please, I insist.”

Ryan finally nodded, giving in. He didn’t want to be impolite, and even though he didn’t think she needed to do this, he wasn’t going to stop her if would make her feel better. 

As soon as she left the table, he got his phone out, surprised to see that he had a missed call and two text messages from Shane. 

_What are you up to?_

_I got done sooner than anticipated. Netflix and chill?_

Ryan laughed quietly to himself, a little burst of happiness rising in his chest. He was a little disgusted with himself, but the rest of him choose to enjoy this while he could. 

_> Update your lines_

_> Out with Jess, sorry_

The reply was surprisingly fast.

_Where?_

_Ryan, where are you?_

_> Calm down, you stalker_

_> Bar at 10th _

Ryan looked up to see Jess making her towards him, two orange cocktails balanced in her hands, so he slipped his phone back into his pocket. 

“Talking to Madej? Ah, young love.”

There was something unnerving in Jess’ smile when she set down the drinks, but Ryan let her get away with it. “Shut up, Jess, you’re barely a year older than me.” He reached towards the closest drink, taking an experimental sip. It was incredibly sweet, with a faintly bitter aftertaste. 

“What is this?” he asked, taking another longer drink. It wasn’t bad, similar to a Screwdriver. 

Jess watched him for a moment before sipping her own. “Blood and Sand.”

Ryan snickered. He could see why Shane and Jess had gotten along, since they were both weird as Hell. He knew better than to say that, though. “Thank God it doesn’t taste like blood or sand.” 

They managed to fall into an easy conversation, gossiping about people at work and complaining about the paperwork. Both of them were required to follow very strict guidelines when it came to filling out forms, so it had become a common thing for them to argue about. 

It had been about a half hour when Ryan started to feel a little odd. He slowly blinked once, sluggishly realizing that he had missed the first half of whatever Jess was saying. 

“-swear to God, if Reynolds complains about my handwriting one more time-”

Ryan tried to stand up, but his legs didn’t want to work right. It felt like they weren’t receiving the signals his brain was sending. 

“Ryan?”

Jess’ voice was sharp, and he willed his eyes up to meet hers, not even realizing that he had been frowning down at his lap. She looked unnervingly intense. 

“I think I need to use the bathroom,” he said, tongue feeling weirdly heavy in his mouth. 

Something was wrong, he knew. They had only had two drinks and there was no way he should be feeling this out of it. Hell, he had been in a fraternity for four years, it would take way more than that to get him this drunk. 

Something was _seriously_ wrong. 

There had been some training in the Academy about date rape drugs and his heart began to beat harder, if not faster. It was a weird sensation. Abruptly, he started to worry about Jess. “Are you okay?” he asked, the words sounding distant. He doubted anyone would target him, but if he had accidentally taken the drink meant for Jess, she could be in trouble.

She looked surprised at his question, but she nodded. “Are _you_ okay? You don’t look so good.”

With each passing second, it felt like more and more of his thoughts were slipping away. “Think there was roofies,” he said, slurring the last word. 

“Are you sure you aren’t just sick?”

Ryan shook his head, trying to clear it. “No, Jess, be careful.”

Each thought was harder and harder to form. This was happening too fast. Whatever had been used had to have been in both drinks.

This time he managed to make it to his feet, leaning heavily on the table. He tried to get his phone out of his pocket, knowing they should call someone. Call the police. 

_I_ am _the police_.

The thought drifted through his mind and he giggled. 

Finally Jess looked around at all the people in the room, who were starting to watch them. She stood up and made her way over to him. “Alright, I’m taking you back to my place, okay?”

“Gotta test for-”

“I’ve got everything at my apartment, we’ll figure it out.”

That didn’t make sense, why would she have the kits needed to test for drugs? But no, it did make sense, she was a doctor, right? Doctors knew these things. 

That twisted bit of logic comforted him, and he leaned into her, letting his face fall into her neck. From this close, her golden blonde hair smelled like strawberries. “You’re tall,” he said inanely. 

“I’m aware,” Jess said, sounding amused. She wrapped arm around him, supporting him. She was warm and kind of squishy. It wasn’t a bad feeling.

“If-if I ever went straight, I’d totally do it for you,” Ryan said, the words dripping out of his mouth without conscious effort. Distantly, he was alarmed at what he was saying, but he couldn’t do anything to stop himself. It was like all of his decision making abilities had completely gone away. 

“Christ,” Jess muttered. She started to walk them through the maze of tables, taking half of his weight with surprising ease. 

Ryan thought he heard someone call his name. He tried to turn his head, but it took too much effort, so he gave up. 

Suddenly there was a hand on his wrist, pulling him away from Jess with enough to force to make him stumble. There was nothing he could do to stop himself, so he accepted that he was going to fall to the ground with a kind of amused calm. 

Someone caught him, strong arms steadying him. He blinked and looked up. Then kept looking up. 

“Shane,” he said, a big grin slowly forming. “You’re a cop.”

He could remember that was important. For some reason. 

Shane looked down at him with a heart wrenchingly worried expression. 

“Fuck, Ryan, what happened to you?”

It sounded rhetorical, but Ryan answered anyways. “Roofies,” he said, enunciating the middle of the word. He giggled, letting himself rest against Shane’s chest. _Ooh, firm. Nice._

He could feel the movement of Shane’s head as the man looked up. 

“What the fuck did you do?” Shane whispered. He sounded angry. Ryan giggled again to himself, amused for some reason at the idea of Shane being angry on his behalf. 

Someone- Jess?- hissed a harsh reply. “I was _ending_ this, Shane. Like you should have done weeks ago.”

A long arm came up around Ryan’s shoulders, a clear, possessive gesture. Shane’s voice was a dangerous growl, so low that the sounds rumbled in his chest. “If you even _touch_ him again, I’m going to string you up on the steps of the precinct with a big fucking bow tied around your exposed, bloody spine.”

Ryan burst into laughter, because who the Hell said stuff like that? Shane was so _weird_. 

He could feel Shane look down at him, then he made a concerned, chagrined sound. 

“I’m getting you to the hospital, little guy, don’t worry. You’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I trust you,” Ryan said, the words slurred into a jumble, but he felt Shane’s hold on him tighten. 

The darkness reached up to drag him under. He didn’t bother fighting it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're not even being subtle now. ; )
> 
> Well, now that I've got the effects of rohypnol in my search history...
> 
> I appreciate each and every comment (and kudos) that gets sent to me! Thank you so much for your continuing interest.


	9. Chapter 9

Consciousness came to Ryan in fits and starts. 

A soft beeping. Murmuring voices. 

The feel of plastic across his face and in his nose. He was laying down on something soft and reclined. 

Was he in a hospital?

Ryan frowned, bringing his hand up to his face, but someone grabbed his arm before he could touch anything. He squinted his eyes open, eyelids feeling like they had been crusted together. The lights were too bright, giving everything a blurry afterimage. There was a figure standing next to him

_Ow, fuck, my head._

He couldn’t stop the low groan of pain and he squeezed his eyes shut again. “Shane?” he rasped, making him aware of just how dry his tongue was. And it tasted like something had died in his mouth.

“Sorry, wrong detective. I’m a lot more handsome, for one thing.”

Ryan managed to convince himself that he did need to see, even if the light hurt. Hayes was a fuzzy image next to him, only recognizable because he was so close. “Wha-” he coughed, the spasm sending ripples of pain from the sore muscles in his stomach. _What the hell?_

“Contacts?” he asked, trying to keep his voice quiet.

“Doctors weren’t sure how long you’d be out, so we figured it was better to be safe.” Hayes gently placed a plastic cup of barely melted ice chips in his hand. “Let me tell you, it was really weird to watch somebody else take out a person’s contacts.”

Ryan slowly fished out a piece of ice, every movement leaving him feeling sore. The last time he had felt like this, he’d had the flu. Unease started to filter through the confusion.The motion of moving the ice around his mouth tugged at the plastic across his face, and he came to the realization that he had a nasal cannula strapped onto his head, which just added to his worry. 

“What happened?” he asked, finally able to speak without coughing. A thought drifted through his mind, a brief memory of the bar, a bright orange drink, and trying to stand. “Wait, Jess? Is she alright?”

Hayes sat down in the chair next to the bed, rummaging around in his pockets until he found a notebook. “She’s fine, Bergara. Doing a lot better than you.”

Ryan started to shake his head, but quickly stopped. It felt like his brain was going to explode. “Roofies?”

“Yeah, kid, you had about twice the dosage of rohypnol that we usually see.”

Scowling, Ryan crunched down on a piece of ice. Pouting probably didn’t help with being called a kid, but he felt like shit. He thought he had a pretty good excuse. “Evidence?”

Hayes sighed. “Not really. We’re looking at the bar’s security tapes, but the only people that touched your drinks were the bartender, you, and Schmidt. And Madej had the glasses set aside, but there weren’t any strange fingerprints on them.”

Having Hayes talk about the situation like this was driving his confusion to new heights. Everything the detective was saying felt like something Ryan should have context to, but there were large holes in his memory. Past that cocktail, everything went blank. Had someone else been there?

“If you’re feeling up to it, can you tell me what you remember about last night?”

Ryan looked up to see the blurry edges of Hayes writing in his notebook. He frowned, feeling out of sorts. “Never been on this side of the interview,” he said, setting the cup of ice onto a tiny side table. “I met up with Jess at the bar around eight.” The words scraped against his raw throat. “There was a man who was talking to her when I got there. Uh, white, blonde, 5’9, 160 pounds. I could probably provide a better description, but something tells me he isn't the guy that did this. He seemed pretty okay with being turned down.”

Hayes nodded, looking up briefly. “Yeah, Schmidt mentioned him, too, but the footage shows him hitting on another woman for the rest of the night. He wouldn’t have had an opportunity to slip anything into your drinks.”

Ryan frowned, trying to cajole his memory into working. He was trained for this, damn it, and it was incredibly frustrating to be beaten by a stupid drug. It was also disconcerting to realize that he was missing a sizeable chunk of time. “We talked for a bit, then Jess went up to get us drinks. I was checking my phone, so I didn’t notice if there was anyone that seemed overly interested in me or her. I remember the drink, and most of the conversation. And I think there was a second drink? After that, it just isn’t there.”

He really wanted to kick something. He rubbed his fingers over his forehead instead, groaning in frustration. “Fuck. I get occasional flashes of stuff, but it’s just talking or walking. I think...Madej was there?” Ryan frowned. That didn’t make much sense. Why would Shane have been there?

Hayes snickered. “Yeah, your guard dog was there. You’re lucky that Madej is infatuated with you. His willingness to drive for a half hour in LA traffic just to hang out might have saved your life.”

Ryan stared, wide-eyed. There was so much about that statement that he wanted to dispute, but he couldn’t, could he? “Uh. I-uh-” His already hoarse voice cracked. 

There were voices outside the room’s door, then it opened and a tall figure stepped inside. Ryan spotted the blur of an officer in uniform standing outside the room before the door was closed. A profound sense of relief washed over Ryan, both at the sight of Shane and the knowledge that there was someone guarding the door. 

He hadn’t even realized he was worried for his own safety until that moment. 

Even without his contacts, he could tell Shane looked terrible. He hesitated when he saw that Ryan was awake, but proceeded to approach him with his hand outstretched. From this close, Ryan could see that there were dark circles under Shane’s eyes, and he had a pinched, haggard expression. He obviously hadn’t slept.

Ryan accepted what was handed to him, surprised when he saw it was his glasses. He stared down at them before fumbling them onto his face, wincing when they collided with the cannula stuck in his nose. “How did you know-?” And how did Shane get into his apartment?

“I took your keys once Hayes got here,” Shane said, answering his unspoken question. Which was honestly a little freaky, but that still didn’t explain how he had known Ryan wore glasses. He only ever wore contacts to work.

Why did Shane sound nervous?

Hayes leaned forward with unabashed curiosity, obviously watching them. And it abruptly dawned on Ryan that Shane would have seen his glasses and contacts on his bathroom sink. That night. Ah. Ryan tried really hard not to blush, but he didn’t think he was succeeding. 

Shane stepped closer, hovering awkwardly next to the bed. He worried at his lip, something Ryan had never once seen him do, then asked, “What all do you remember about last night?” The words were professional, but his tone was too personal. He sounded worried and hesitant. 

“Like I was telling Hayes, I really don’t remember much after the first drink,” Ryan said, wondering how many times he was going to have to repeat himself. 

“Was there anyone that did anything suspicious?” Shane looked oddly intent. Ryan knew he was missing something, but no matter how much he poked at the holes in his memory, he couldn’t think of anything else. 

He shook his head. “No, unless we count you.” Shane straightened, expression going flat. Christ, what the hell was his problem? “Not that I’m actually complaining, but why did you decide to show up?”

Shane’s shoulders relaxed. He fished out his phone, brought up his text messages, and handed it to Ryan. “You invited me, dingus.”

“‘Dingus’,” Ryan repeated to himself mockingly. He scrolled up through the conversation, blinked, then read it again. 

_> Out with Jess, sorry_

_> Up for a late night? You could come here_

_Where?_

_Ryan, where are you?_

_> Calm down, you stalker_

_> Bar at 10th_

_Don’t go anywhere_

_Stay put_

“I don’t remember this,” Ryan said, frowning at the screen. “I don’t remember inviting you.”

Shane shrugged and sat down in the chair across the bed from Hayes. He took his phone back. “Way to make a girl feel special, Bergara. Are you sure it’s not just the drugs affecting you?”

“But I remember up til…” Ryan sighed and shook his head. It didn’t really matter. “Whatever. Did you see anything suspicious?”

Shane opened his mouth, then closed it. “No,” he said slowly. “I’d like to go over the security footage to be sure, but I was pretty focused on you and Jessica, so I didn’t notice anyone else. 

“You made sure Jess got home safely, right?”

Shane’s lips thinned into a straight line. “She was fine.”

“Shane, don’t tell me you just let her go home? We don’t know who the target was!”

That got him a scowl. “She went to the precinct to report what happened. Jessica can take care of herself.”

“Shane,” Ryan said again, admonishing. “What if she had been grabbed in the parking lot or followed?”

“I was more worried about you.”

“God, you two need to work out your issues if you’re going to keep working in the same building.”

Hayes made an interested noise. Ryan looked over at him to see that he was watching them with bright eyes. Feeling a little vindictive, he blithely said, “Shane and Jess used to date.”

Shane sighed heavily through his nose. 

Hayes’ eyebrows rose. “Dude. Respect.” He reached across the bed, hand vertical.

Looking bemused, Shane actually responded, and they high fived over Ryan’s legs. 

“Really?” 

“Right, right,” Hayes said, grinning. “No complimenting the ex in front of the boyfriend, I got it.”

“He’s not my boy-”

“Seriously though, I’m impressed, because that is a killer rack.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Ryan groaned. He actually didn’t mind this kind of conversation. He _had_ been in a fraternity, so he was used to it. There had been too many drunken conversations about women to count, so he could sling straight innuendos with the best of them.

But this was definitely not the right time or place.

“You’re a lucky guy getting a chance at that, Madej,” Hayes said with a cheerful leer.

“She was the lucky one,” Ryan muttered absently to himself. 

There was a long pause, then both Shane and Hayes turned to look at him with shocked expressions. Ryan blinked, then realized he’d said that out loud. He buried his head in one hand, not even caring that he was pressing his glasses and the cannula into his face. “Pretend I’m still drugged.”

“That’s more information than I wanted to know about you, but my respect grows.”

He looked up to see that Hayes was grinning and Shane was a weird mix of smug and exasperated. Ryan smacked at Hayes’ hand before he could try to go for another high five. “That’s not what I meant, Goddammit.” He groaned again. Loudly. “Ugh. Roofies, potential kidnapping attempt? Any of that ring a bell?”

“Hey, if you want to keep talking about Madej’s dick, I won’t stop you.”

Shane made a noise like a strangled cough as he tried not to laugh. 

Ryan ignored him to stare at Hayes. The man was smiling, but his fingers were tapping at his notebook in a continuous pattern, and he couldn’t quite meet Ryan’s gaze. Through the haze of embarrassment and the headache that had never actually gone away, Ryan realized something. He sighed. “Justin, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to try so hard. Seriously, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Oh thank God,” Hayes said with obvious relief, practically deflating in front of them. “I was having flashbacks to the Thanksgiving my niece came out. I am not cut out for being nice to people.”

Ryan laughed despite himself. “Next time, just say you don’t care. Save everyone the trouble.” He let himself relax against the pillows. “If Hayes is done having a crisis-”

“Hey-”

“-Can you tell me what happened when you got to the bar, Shane?”

The smile fell off of Shane’s face. He leaned forward, resting his elbows onto the bed in front of him. It made the mattress dip and Ryan wished he had the nerves to reach for Shane’s hand. “I got there just as Jessica was trying to get you out of the door. I could tell something was wrong right away.” 

He smoothed one hand across the sheet, close to Ryan’s thigh. “You were obviously drugged. You were stumbling and slurring and easily suggestible.” His lips quirked up for a moment. “You informed me a number of times that I was tall.”

Ryan snickered. “Glad to know that I’m fun while drugged.”

“I didn’t see anyone suspicious in the parking lot, or anyone following us to the hospital. I didn’t leave you once until Hayes and some officers got here.” Shane turned imploring, dark eyes towards Ryan. “I wanted to go back to the bar to interview witnesses, but you said you trusted me, so I couldn’t just leave you by yourself.”

Touched, Ryan looked away and cleared his throat. Rather than acknowledge those feelings, he said, “I’m still a little mad that you just left Jess.”

Shane’s expression went flinty. “I didn’t. I called dispatch so officers could escort her to the station.”

“Oh. Well. Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me on her behalf,” Shane snapped abruptly. Realizing that both Ryan and Hayes were staring at him, he closed his eyes for a second and let out a long breath. “She didn’t want to take you to the hospital. I’m not happy with her right now.”

Hayes tilted his head in confusion. “Why didn’t she want to take Bergara to the hospital?” he asked, voicing what Ryan was thinking. 

Shane studied the two of them for a long moment. He looked like he was trying to make a decision. “She said that she thought you were just sick.” His focus turned to Hayes. “Can you give us a moment?”

Hayes looked at the two of them with his eyes narrowed, then he let out a quiet laugh. “I’ll give you the rest of the day. I’m going to go talk to Quinn about setting up a rotation of uniforms around you. Make sure you talk to him before leaving.” He stood and pointed at them. “Both of you get sleep. I’ve stepped in shit that looks better than you do right now.”

They waited until Hayes had left the room and shut the door behind him before Ryan turned towards Shane. “What is-”

He was interrupted by a desperate kiss. Long fingers cradled his jaw, their touch gentle, reverent. 

“Fuck,” Shane breathed against Ryan’s lips. He closed his eyes. “I was so worried.”

A part of Ryan melted at that, and he suddenly wanted nothing more than to go home and _cuddle_. He didn’t think he’d ever had that urge before. But even as he reached up to clasp the back of Shane’s hand, the part of him that had driven him to become a police officer was saying something was wrong. 

Yes, Ryan could have had an adverse reaction to the rohypnol, and yes, the three of them had likely been in danger while in the bar’s parking lot. Other than that, there hadn’t been much risk once they had reached the hospital. Shane was acting out of proportion for what had actually happened. 

Something wasn’t adding up. 

“Shane,” Ryan said gently, squeezing the hand under his lightly. “What were you worried about?”

“She-” Shane shook his head, then pulled back. He left his hand where it was, though, his thumb tracing Ryan’s lower lip. “You were _drugged_ , Ryan. Why wouldn’t I be worried?”

“No, it’s something else,” Ryan said, doing his best to ignore the touch. “You said ‘she’. Did something happen to Jess?”

Shane looked resigned, even as a small smile played across his mouth. “You’re too smart for your own good,” he murmured. He brought his other hand up to cup the back of Ryan’s neck. “Do you trust me, Ry?”

“Yes,” Ryan said simply. 

Dark eyes widened, then Shane’s expression went soft and pleading. “I’m working on something that I can’t tell you about,” Shane said. He licked his lips, then looked away. “It’s a...theory, I suppose. About the copycat. But I need to be sure before I can bring anything to the Chief.”

Ryan frowned. “That’s not how this works, Madej. You can’t work this case in a void, you have to tell someone if you think you have something. And it should be me, since I am the lead investigator.”

“I know, I will. Just, not right now.”

“Shane-”

“Ryan, baby, please.”

Ryan’s mouth opened, but no sounds came out. _Did he seriously just_ -? Realizing that he probably looked like an idiot, he snapped his mouth closed. He literally had no idea what to feel about being called a pet name. Normally, he’d protest any and all such ideas, but Shane looked terrible. The name, the intent behind it, paired with Shane’s overall haggard and tired appearance made something warm unfurl in his heart. It just made him want to send Shane home.

He shook his head slowly. Maybe it would be better to just ignore it for now. “What do you need to do?”

Shane visibly relaxed, his fingers falling off Ryan’s skin. He pinched the bridge of his nose, then took a deep breath. “Give me two days.”

Ryan scowled. He wanted to protest everything about this. This went against every policy and procedure set in place. Whatever secretive thing Shane was up to was probably dangerous, or he would have told Ryan. There was a reason why there was an entire support system set up for detectives, so that they didn’t need to do anything particularly risky. “This isn't a movie, Madej. Going off half-cocked on some theory is just as likely to endanger the case as it is to solve it. That being said…” he trailed off, then sighed.

Damn it, this was Shane. 

“Motherfucker. Two days. Then you’re telling me everything.”

Shane’s smile was a grim copy of his usual cocky grin. “Maybe not _everything_.”

“If this turns out to be a real lead, and the copycat kills someone else because you were dicking around, I’m not going to forgive you.”

“I won’t forgive myself.”

\---------------------------------------------------

 

The doctor refused to let Ryan go until he had been under observation for a full twenty-four hours, which meant that he didn’t leave the hospital until the sun had already set. He point-blank refused a wheelchair, despite the intimidating nurse who had threatened to tie him to one.  
He also refused to lean on Officer Quinn, who was awkwardly hovering next to him as if he thought Ryan was going to collapse at the smallest breeze. It was incredibly frustrating, since he he felt fine. 

Well, no, he felt like shit. But he wasn’t about to faint, either. There was really no need for everyone to act like he was an invalid. 

Leaning next to the double doors of the hospital entrance was Shane, frowning down at his phone. Ryan had sent him home earlier in the day, forcing him to go away so that that he could actually get some sleep. He was wearing a pair of frameless glasses, a plaid shirt, and stupidly tight jeans. The dark stubble from earlier in the day had grown into a thin beard that lined his jaw, giving his face a slight shadow. 

He was also wearing a beanie. _The fuck_.

Weirdly, the entire ensemble made him look ten years younger. 

If he was being brutally honest with himself, Ryan wanted nothing more than to get down on his knees and do filthy, filthy things to Shane. Instead, he scoffed loudly. “Jesus, Madej, did you mug a hipster on your way here?”

Shane looked up from his phone, then smirked. “Yes. I couldn’t resist the plaid. It called to me.”

Ryan rolled his eyes. “Not that I’m not thrilled to see you looking like _that_ , but what are you doing here?”

“I’m here to drive you home and make sure you actually rest,” Shane said, straightening up away from the wall.

“I thought that’s what Quinn was for.”

Officer Quinn shook his head, then jerked his thumb towards the line of cars that were parked in front of the building. A couple of squad cars were in the mix. “Just supposed to guard you at the hospital and watch your apartment building.”

Shane offered his elbow like an old-timey gentleman. “Shall I escort you to your car, good sir?”

“Fuck off, Shane. You get weird without sleep.” 

Smothering a laugh at Shane’s expression, Ryan proceeded to make his slow way into the parking lot, trying to hide how his muscles were trembling. Alright, maybe the wheelchair would have been a good idea, but he wasn’t going to admit that now. 

The drive to his apartment was quiet, and Ryan nearly fell asleep halfway there. The only thing that kept him awake was the opportunity to watch Shane drive. It was weird to realize that he had never seen the man perform such a common task. They had already been through so much together, but in reality, they barely knew each other. 

How had everything moved so fast?

When they reached his apartment, he couldn’t help but shiver when he stepped out of his car. It wasn’t from the cold. The knowledge that there could be a murderer - _or two_ \- out there watching him was chilling. His eyes darted around, taking in the familiar surroundings that had gained a sinister edge. He relaxed slightly when he saw Quinn’s squad car roll past, but he couldn’t shake the paranoid feeling. 

Ryan realized that Shane was staring at him, and he muttered 'What?' defensively. 

“No one’s going to come after you while I’m here.”

“You’re just inviting yourself over now?”

“Yes,” Shane said. It might have been a little condescending.

Ryan didn’t want to examine why that plain statement made him feel better. 

They made it into his apartment with no real problem, though Ryan felt like he had just run a marathon by the time they made it to his couch. He collapsed onto it, ignoring Shane telling him that he wasn’t going to carry his ass to the bed if he fell asleep. 

He let himself lie there, listening to the sounds of Shane moving around his apartment as if it was his own. It was disconcerting to hear someone else going through the routine of making food in his kitchen, or changing the sheets of his bed. 

Leaning his head against the back of the couch, he closed his eyes tiredly, and yelled, “Why are you cleaning?”

“Because I’m not sleeping another night in a bed that probably hasn’t seen clean sheets since you moved here,” was the faint reply. 

“Wow, you really are just inviting yourself.” Ryan said, slurring half the words. Whatever drugs the doctor had given him were doing a hell of a job. He slid sideways until he was actually half laying down. “Also, fuck you, I’ve changed the sheets,” he muttered. Wow, he was out of it. 

He was startled awake by a hand gently shaking his shoulder. “C’mon, buddy, you’ll be more comfortable in your bed.”

“Shane, why do two people want to kill me?” he asked in a mumble before he could stop himself. He hated how whiney he sounded, but it was a question that had been eating at him for days. Exhaustion must have loosened his tongue if he was just going to blurt it out like that. “I just-why? I knew when I became an officer that there would be danger, but...This doesn’t feel like revenge. It doesn’t even feel like a ‘fuck the police’ scenario.”

His weight dipped towards the end of the couch as Shane sat next to him. He peeled his eyes open to watch the man. 

Shane looked troubled. He had removed his hat, and the messy way his hair was sticking up should have been comical. But there was something too serious in the line of his mouth and the furrow of his eyebrows. 

“Shane?”

There were suddenly arms wrapped around him, pulling him into an impromptu hug that basically left him cradled in Shane’s lap. It left him feeling small and protected. He hated it as much as he liked it. 

_Fucking emotions._

“I think only the copycat is targeting you,” Shane eventually said, tracing abstract patterns across Ryan’s arm. The other man’s chest felt warm against his back.

“Not the Lover?”

Shane sighed, then shrugged. “Maybe? I mean, maybe he wanted to at first, but his messages have changed.”

“He killed Nguyen just because he looked like me.”

Lips rested against his head. It felt more like an attempt to get closer to him than a kiss. “Maybe he was curious. He’s only killed the one man, remember? Cruz was the copycat.”

“We think,” Ryan said. “We’re still running off far too much conjecture.”

“You should be too tired to be using words like conjecture.”

Ryan smiled softly, but he couldn’t escape the feeling of fear that had sat crouched in the back of his mind since Nguyen had been discovered. “So what, the Lover is just trying to impress me?”

Shane twitched. “What?” he asked, sounding strangled. “I mean, are you uh, impressed?”

Ryan twisted, smirking over his shoulder at the other man. “What, are you jealous? Because trust me, no matter how good this guy is, you’re my favorite psychopath.”

That got him a weird look, Shane’s expression going from pleased to insulted and back again in quick succession.

Ryan took a second to realize what he said, then he winced into a full-body cringe and turned back to facing forward. “Wow, I am so sorry, that was really tasteless.”

Shane’s chuckle was strained. “It’s fine.”

“No, seriously, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to -”

“Ryan. It’s fine.”

“Sorry,” he muttered again. There was a long pause, and rather than think about how he had just put his foot in his mouth, he focused back on the conversation. “You really think it’s just the copycat that wants me dead?”

“Yeah.”

“You sound pretty sure.” 

Shane lightly drew his hand up Ryan’s shoulder and neck, long fingers caressing the front of his throat. “Truthfully? I think you’d already be dead if he wanted to kill you.” There was the faintest pressure against his Adam’s apple. 

Ryan shivered. “You are really creepy sometimes, you know that? Stop pawing at my throat like you’re going to choke me.”

The answering laugh sounded a little strange. “Sorry. Maybe that’s my fetish.” Fingers tapped against the side of his neck, then Shane withdrew his hand to start playing with Ryan’s hair. 

That was a hell of a lot more pleasant. 

“We can discuss that when I’m not on painkillers.”

Shane went completely still. “Really?” 

Yup, that was hope in his voice. Why wasn’t Ryan surprised?

Well, it wasn’t the weirdest thing to be into.

Ryan made sure the exasperation he was feeling could be heard. “Figures. Yes, really. Right now, I’m going to focus on the wonderful idea that only _one_ person wants to kill me.”

“A red letter day, to be sure.”

“Think I could convince the Chief that we need to focus our attention on the copycat, just to save my ass?”

Shane laughed quietly, pressing a soft kiss to his hair. “I like that idea. Let’s get this bitch.”

\-------------------------

 

_Dearest Ryan,_

_She was a pleasant diversion, nothing more, but you inspire me to greater heights._

_They looked beautiful together._

_I do hope you enjoy this gift. I worked so hard on it._

_Yours,_

_Lover  
_

Ryan sighed, then rubbed one hand tiredly across his face. This was not what he had wanted to greet him as soon as he returned to work. He read the email again, then turned to Shane, who was glaring at his laptop. 

“What the hell does this mean? ‘They’? I really hope he’s not implying what I think he is.”

Shane let out a sigh of his own, tapping at the keyboard in front of him in an absent minded way. He looked like he was a million miles away, but he did answer after a while. “We can’t know until a body is discovered.”

Ryan scowled, angrily clicking away from the email. “I’m getting real fucking tired of waiting. We can’t ever get ahead of this guy and it’s pissing me off.”

“It will end eventually, one way or another.”

He shot a glance at Shane, but the man wasn’t looking at him. Shane had been acting weird all morning, and he could only assume it had something to do with the man’s mysterious theory on the copycat. Ryan wanted desperately to ask him about it, but he had promised a full two days. Even if he had to physically get up and walk away once or twice, just to stop himself from pestering Shane. 

Ryan was in the middle of going through crime scene photos _again_ when he got the call that he had been waiting for and dreading. He listened, grim faced, before getting to his feet. “Come on, the bodies were found.”

Shane startled from the reverie that he had been in for the better part of the day. “Bodies?”

“Yes,” Ryan said in a clipped voice. He wanted nothing more than to punch a wall, but he couldn’t allow himself that kind of outburst in public. Once he started, he wouldn’t stop. 

The crime scene was a small house in one of the cheaper parts of town. Not that it meant much in LA, where property prices were through the roof no matter where it was. “These two were roommates,” Ryan said, reciting the basic facts that Hayes had emailed to him before they had driven there. Maybe it was some sort of apology for withholding information on Cruz’ case, but it did allow him the luxury of knowing what he was about to walk into. 

Ryan wasn’t sure if he appreciated already having names for the victims, though. It would make it harder for him to see them as just bodies. 

“Tessa Wallace and Alessia Kapoor,” he said as they were waved into the house. “College friends with enough of their parents money to afford their own place. That's probably why this dickhead was able to kill them both at once. The neighbors were farther away and wouldn’t have heard anything.”

Shane was silent next to him. It left Ryan off balance. He had come to expect some kind of comment, even if it was just ill-placed sarcasm. 

He braced himself before entering the living room, but there was nothing that could have prepared him for the domesticity of the scene. 

The TV was on, stuck on a repeat of a video game pause screen flickering on and off. 

Wallace sat cross legged on her couch, a video game controller gripped tightly in her hands, as if they had been glued to it. The Lover had done something to keep her head upright and facing forward. When Ryan took a step closer, he could see fishing line had been tied under her chin, then attached to the ceiling fan above. Her red hair stood out like a flame in the harsh lights of the Forensic techs. 

Kapoor was on the floor, lounging against the couch with a book tied open in one hand and a joint in the other. In a departure from the killer’s typical style, both of them were wearing soft, comfortable clothes that still managed to flatter their forms. 

If it hadn’t been for the stiff way they were posed and the bloodless hole in their necks, it would have looked like they had walked in on two friends having a pleasant night in. 

“Is that L.A. Noire?” Shane asked, breaking the tense silence.

Ryan sent him a surprised look. “You know what the game is?”

Rolling his eyes, Shane moved farther in, crouching down next to Kapoor. “I’m thirty one, not sixty.”

There was a surprising amount of relief at that snarky comment. It shouldn’t have comforted Ryan, but Shane being a dick was quickly becoming one of his foundations for keeping mentally balanced. 

“So, that’s great. Not only is the Lover getting creative, he also has a sense of humor. That’s just. Great.”

“You’re repeating yourself.”

Ryan shook his head, focusing on the banter to keep himself from hyperventilating. 

_Fuck. Two women murdered because I wasn’t good enough._

No, no, that wasn’t going to help anything. He drew his gaze back to the scene, forcing himself to pay attention. He eyed the fishing line, following it up to the fan. “Would you be able to reach that?”

Shane looked up, then followed Ryan’s pointing finger to the fan. He unfolded into a standing position like some sort of fucking jack-in-the-box, then walked to the back of the couch. He reached up, and his finger’s just barely missed brushing across the fan blade. If he stood on his toes, he wouldn’t have too much trouble with wrapping something around it.

“Christ, this guy must be tall.”

“Or he stood on a chair,” Shane said with a smarmy tone of voice. 

“Shut up, Shane.” He wasn’t wrong, obviously, but for some reason Ryan just couldn’t picture a serial killer that put this much effort into his murders dragging a chair from the kitchen to stand on it. “Although it would have saved us a lot of trouble if he did use a chair, then fell off of it and broke his neck.”

“Lacks a certain something, but I like the thought.”

Ryan laughed, a strained, almost hysteric sound. _Get it together_. He turned to the officer that was standing in the doorway. “No one found anything, then?”

The officer shook her head. “Place is clean as a whistle. Barely even found any prints or hair from the victims.”

Ryan tilted his head. That pricked at something in his conscious. He watched Shane stare at the ceiling fan. The man’s eyes were squinted, as if he could find fingerprints just be looking for them. “Nothing in the garbage?”

“No.”

“The neighbor’s garbage?”

She frowned. “We only got permission from the one house, but nothing was found.”

“Do you mind taking me around to where it all is?”

The officer gave him a bit of an annoyed look, but led him outside, to where a pair of empty trash cans sat next to a pile of items. Everything that had been in them had been bagged and tagged and would be sent to the evidence locker as soon as they were done. He knew that people trained specifically for this kind of work would have already gone over everything, but he would feel better if he could get his own eyes on any potential evidence. 

He settled onto his heels next to the pile, sifting through the individual bags. He heard Shane walk up behind him. Normally, the long legs next to him would have been a distraction, but Ryan had a gut feeling, and nothing drove him harder than a hunch. 

“What are you looking for?”

“I’ll know it when I see it.”

Ryan felt like he could literally hear the silent mocking. From both Shane and the officer. 

He went through everything twice, but nothing jumped out at him. “Are there any public trash cans in the area?”

The officer -her name tag said Morrison- did nothing to hide her aggrieved sigh. “We did look at those, Detective.”

Ryan drew himself up to his full height. It would have been more impressive if she hadn’t been nearly as tall as him. “Officer Morrison, I’m not questioning whether or not everyone did their job. I’m going to do whatever is necessary to catch this killer, and if that means double checking every single thing, then I will. Now could you please show me to the stupid trash?”

What followed was a frustrating and annoying hour of going from public garbage to public garbage. Each one had already been cleaned by some poor intern from Forensics, but he checked anyways. Shane trailed after him, his comments getting downright mean by the fifth one. But Ryan wasn’t going to give up, and he ignored both the comments and Morrison’s glares. 

“Just one more,” he said, having spotted a dented metal can that was chained to the outside of an old cafe that looked like it had been out of business for years. At this point, they were probably over a mile away from the crime scene, and outside of the the radius that would have been covered. 

“Ryan,” Shane said, trying to catch his arm. “You can’t dumpster dive your way through Los Angeles to catch this guy.”

Ryan dodged his hand and marched forward. “I can and I will,” he muttered mutinously. He grabbed the metal lid, hot from being under the sun, and yanked it off. 

Half obscured by a couple of McDonalds cups was a vacuum cleaner bag. He thought he saw a glimpse of yellow cleaning gloves under that.

“Madej,” he said slowly. “You can eat your fucking words.”

Shane peered over his shoulder, Morrison trying to lean around the both of them. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“Ha!” Ryan exclaimed. “I was fucking right and now you have to admit it. Admit it, Shane!”

“This could be completely unrelated.”

“You often throw away your cleaning supplies in an abandoned building?” Ryan asked with clear sarcasm. God, it felt good to be able to rub Shane’s nose in this. “Morrison, could you get on the radio and have them send a squad car?”

For once, she did as he asked without any attitude. 

“Dammit,” Shane whispered. Then he rolled his eyes. “Fine, you’re right. I’ll give you this one. What made you think of it?”

“You, actually,” Ryan said. Shane sent him a weird look. “When I called you a couple days ago and you said you were helping a friend clean? Well, obviously this guy is cleaning up after himself, but he probably isn’t keeping the supplies with him, right? I mean, that would just be stupid. Unless he’s a janitor, which, I guess is a possibility. But he has to be getting rid of the evidence somewhere, right? Someplace fairly close so that it’s not in his possession for very long, but far enough away that it won’t be easily discovered. I mean, he learned his mistake after throwing away the murder weapon in the building’s garbage that one time.”

Ryan took a deep breath, suddenly realizing he’d been rambling. He felt fucking _energetic_. This could be the break they needed. If they found a print, or hair, or skin sample or _something_ in the vacuum bag, they’d be that much closer. 

Having followed his long-winded explanation with his eyebrow going high and higher, Shane seemed both impressed and pissed. It kind of made him look constipated. “And how exactly did me cleaning make you think of coming this far out?”

“I don’t really know, actually,” Ryan said. It was always hard for him to describe his gut instincts. Half of the time it came from leaps of logic that he couldn’t even follow himself. “I think I just asked myself ‘What would Shane do?’ and this was my answer.”

Shane looked downright alarmed. “What?”

“I don’t know, man. Of everyone I know, you’d probably make the best serial killer.”

Hmm. Maybe that was a weird thing to say. 

“Why is this my life?” Shane asked the air in front of him. “Thanks, I think. I’ll keep that in mind if I ever decide I need a career change.”

“Nah, then you wouldn’t have health insurance or a 401K.”

The laugh Shane made when startled into it was quickly becoming one of Ryan’s favorite sounds in the world. 

After the garbage was taken care of, they took the squad car back to the murder scene on the off chance that they could discover something else. They hadn’t actually spent much time there, since Ryan had taken off on his hare-brained scheme. It’d be a coup to find something else as well. 

It was as Shane was staring down at Wallace that Ryan had a sickening moment of deja vu. He thought of that pale, stiff face, tilted up and smiling flirtatiously, that bottle red hair a muted blaze in bar lights. 

All of his energy, all of the positive feelings of accomplishment, it all drained out of him. He felt numb.

“Shane?” his voice cracked. “Does she look familiar to you?”

Eyebrows furrowed, Shane looked from him to Wallace. “Should she?”

Ryan cleared his throat. “Remember that night at the bar? The woman flirting with you before I showed up?”

His eyes narrowed, then Shane crouched down on his heels to get a closer look at Wallace’s face. Ryan couldn’t see his expression, but he did hear Shane mutter a few swears to himself. 

“What do you think this means?”

That was the question that had started echoing in his mind since he’d recognize the poor girl in front of him. He had a pretty damn good idea what the answer was. “He’s been watching me,” Ryan said. He sounded weird to his own ears. Distant. 

_No, no, no, no, no, I’m not doing this again. Not here._

Ryan got an iron grip on his emotions, turned, and walked out of the house. He heard Shane call his name, then run after him. He barely noticed. He slid into his car, started it, then started driving. Every movement was on autopilot. He wasn’t sure where he was going and it took a full minute for him to realize that Shane was in the seat next to him, repeating something over and over again. 

He knew he shouldn’t be driving in this state, that he was a danger to himself as well as others. That was the only reason why he eventually pulled over, parking in the farthest spot he could find in a Safeway parking lot. 

Shane reached over and took the keys from his shaking hands. Ryan watched it happen as if through a film.

“He’s been watching me,” Ryan said again. He croaked Shane’s name, voice trembling. “You’re in danger. Oh God, I’m so sorry.”

“Ryan, I don’t understand.” Shane’s voice was soft and placating, but he was obviously confused. Didn’t he see it? Didn’t he understand what this meant?”

“Shane, Wallace was flirting with _you_ , not me. That means the Lover was there. He was there in the bar and he was watching you as well as me and I keep putting people in danger and I can’t handle this anymore!” To Ryan’s absolute horror, the last word ended in a sob. Tears leaked down one cheek and he angrily wiped them away with the back of his hand. “Those two women are dead because one of them got the innocent fucking idea to flirt with the tallest man at the bar. They shouldn’t be dead because of that! In no ordinary fucking scenario does that end in double homicide.”

The startled and uncomfortable look on Shane’s face would have been hilarious if Ryan had seen it at any other time. The man hesitantly put one hand on Ryan’s shoulder. It was about all he could do with the car’s console and gear shift in the way. “Ryan, you can’t let this get personal.”

Ryan flinched away from the contact. Fuck, he didn’t deserve to be comforted. “It’s already fucking personal,” he snapped. “It became personal as soon as he became obsessed with me. Do you think he would stop if I was taken off the case?”

Shane hesitated, then shook his head. 

“Exactly. And I’m not good enough to catch this fucker. I’m not good enough to see what’s right in front of my face. He was right there, Shane. He was in that fucking bar. _Motherfucker_.”

He thought of the faces of Wallace and Kapoor, the lived-in look of their home and the fact that they would have been together when they died. Two more innocent people. This time he did nothing to stop the tears spilling. 

“Ryan…”

Shane unbuckled his seatbelt, then somehow managed to wedge one knee under himself. He leaned across the console, wrapped one arm around Ryan’s shoulders and pulled him closer. It was awkward and uncomfortable, but for one moment Ryan let himself cry into Shane’s neck. 

“I can’t let any more innocent people die because of me, Shane,” he said, pleading the words into the man’s skin. “This needs to stop.”

“I…” Shane trailed off. He made a frustrated noise, then rested his head against Ryan’s.

They breathed together in silence for far too long, until Ryan got a cramp in his neck. He could only imagine how uncomfortable Shane was right now. It was just as he was about to pull away, embarrassment and shame starting to filter in, when Shane nodded once. 

“You’re right. This needs to end.”

Ryan pulled back, blurry pained eyes meeting Shane’s. The man had the fanatic look of someone who has just cast away their last worldly inhibitions. Ryan had seen drug addicts that looked less unhinged. “Shane, what-?”

“No more innocents, Ryan. I- _we’re_ stopping this.”

“I appreciate the sudden enthusiasm, but-”

“We’re going to go back to the station and I’m going to talk to Jessica. You’re going to get Hayes and the Chief in one of the interrogation rooms.”

“What are-”

“Ryan, please. Trust me.”

Shane was looking at him like he was one moment away from getting on his knees and praying to Ryan. Like he was some sort of savior. Or a god.

He couldn’t say no to that. 

\-------------------------------

Getting Hayes to cooperate had been easy enough. He was pretty sure that Hayes was trying to move out of his own precinct anyways, so he took any opportunity that he could to show up at 15’s building. 

Chief Flores was another matter entirely. The man was always busy, and trying to get him during a moment of free time was difficult on the best of days. When Ryan couldn’t tell him why he wanted his attention? It was like trying to move a boulder. 

“Boss, five minutes of your time.”

Flores had a glare that could strip paint. “You can have it now. Spit it out.”

“No, sir, you need to come to interrogation room two.”

“I don’t have time for theatrics, Bergara.”

This would have been a hell of a lot easier if Shane had just told him what the fuck was going on.

“Madej has something that might break the case.” He hoped. He really really hoped. Otherwise, he was making a huge fool of himself right now. 

Flores stared at him for a long, panic-inducing moment, then heaved himself up from his desk with a weary sigh that eloquently managed to convey ‘fucking kids’ without having to actually say anything. “You’re walking a thin line, Detective.”

“Yes, boss,” Ryan said meekly, getting out of the Chief’s way as he started towards the area set aside for suspects. 

Hayes was already in the interrogation room that Ryan had booked, sitting in one of the metal chairs, his ever present notebook on the table in front of him. One day, Ryan would get that thing away from him, just to see if he actually wrote notes in it. The man looked up, sketching a lazy salute to Flores. 

“Chief. Bergara. Want to tell me what’s going on?”

“We’re waiting for Madej,” Ryan said, skirting the edge of the room to sit in the chair usually used for suspects. Flores folded his arms across his chest and leaned against the wall, glowering at him. 

“Thin line, Bergara.”

Ryan cringed. 

Luckily for his psyche, he only had to sweat for a minute. There was a knock, then Shane slid in, closing the door behind him with a clear click of the lock. He looked around the room, nodding to each of them. 

“Thank you for coming,” he said, making his way around the table to stand next to Ryan. At first glance, he looked fine, but something about the way he had planted his feet and couldn’t quite meet anyone’s eyes spoke of nerves. 

“What is this about, Madej? I don’t have time to indulge you,” Flores said.

Shane started to unbutton his suit jacket, his movements slightly stiff. He took a deep breath, his gaze fixed forward. “I know who the copycat is.”

The room went deathly still, then suddenly everyone else was trying to talk at once. Shane ignored them, pulling his jacket off and draping it on the back of Ryan’s chair. The three men fell silent one by one as they watched him shrug out of his shoulder holster and lay it on the table. 

“What are you doing?” Ryan asked, his voice soft. It echoed in the room anyways. 

One of Shane’s hands lingered on the butt of his gun, but at Ryan’s question, he deliberately took a step back. 

“Doctor Jessica Schmidt, Resident Medical Examiner for Precinct 15.”

Ryan stared. His mind was blank, filled with nothing but buzzing static. 

Hayes was the one who voiced the question that was begging to be asked “...What about her?”

“Jessica is the copycat,” Shane stated baldly. For the first time since he had walked into the room, he met Ryan’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Ryan.”

“Do you have any evidence to support this?” Flores demanded, voice gruff, but his expression gave nothing away. 

Shane took a small recording device out of his pocket, sat it on the table, then spun it til it faced Hayes and Flores. Ryan recognized it as something Gang and Narcotics used regularly. He had no idea how Shane would have gotten something like that without requisitioning it. “I got her to confess on tape. I know this won’t hold up in court, but I also knew I would need something to convince you three.”

His voice was steady, almost casual. It didn’t hide the way his fingers trembled as he unclipped his badge from his belt and laid it next to the gun. 

“Madej,” Ryan said softly, not missing how the use of his last name made Shane flinch. “Why did you take your gun and badge off?”

Shane licked his lips, then straightened to his full height, bringing his hands to the small of his back and looking dead ahead, his chin level. Parade rest. Ryan had never seen him stand like that before. 

“Once you listen to what’s on that tape, I’ll be a suspect.”

“What do you mean by that?” Hayes sounded unnervingly calm.

"She has very compelling evidence." 

"Madej," Flores said in clear warning. 

From where he was sitting, Ryan could just catch a glimpse of Shane’s hands curl into white-knuckled fists behind his back. 

“Schmidt thinks I am the Lover.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so touched by the enthusiasm I've been receiving! The plan here on out is longer chapters, since this is slowly turning into a book. That means my update times will be a little longer. But hopefully not too much longer!
> 
> I was reminded that I do actually have a tumblr, at [Mephsation](http://mephsation.tumblr.com), if you want to talk more directly to me. I still won't give anyone any spoilers, though ; )
> 
> You'll have to forgive me if I miss something on there. I'm ancient and crotchety and I never really got the hang of tumblr. 
> 
> Thank you so so much for your comments!


	10. Chapter 10

_Jessica is the copycat._

_Schmidt thinks I’m the Lover._

The words mixed and echoed in Ryan’s mind, tumbling in a yawning chasm of pure disbelief. 

None of it made _sense_. 

“Bullshit,” Ryan blurted, breaking the silence that had fallen. 

Flores sent him a glance, but he had an expression like he agreed with Ryan’s statement. 

Hayes leaned back in his chair with a contemplative air. It devastated something in Ryan that Hayes was actually considering this lunacy. “There were only three sets of fingerprints on the cocktails that were used to drug Bergara,” the man said almost absently. He was staring down at his notebook, obviously trying to piece together how this could possibly fit. 

“Jess didn’t fucking roofie me,” Ryan snapped. 

“Bergara,” Flores said, his tone a warning. 

Ryan shut his mouth, but there was no way that Jess, one of his closest friends, was the copycat. He didn’t even bother to contemplate the idea that she would think Shane was the Lover. 

_She wanted me to go to her place. Alone._

He pushed that thought away, damning himself for always being willing to consider the most outrageous theories. 

“Play the tape,” Flores commanded, ignoring Ryan’s obvious internal struggle. 

Shane managed to become even stiffer for a moment, before he unbent enough to press a couple of buttons on the device in front of him. 

There was soft static, then the sound of a deep sigh, the rustle of cloth. A knock on a door, followed by more rustling. 

“Jessica.” 

Shane’s recorded voice sounded strained. It echoed slightly in the interrogation room. 

“Shane,” came the annoyed response. Jess sounded faint, but they could hear the clack of her heels as she walked closer to the recorder. “Come to threaten me again?”

Ryan shot a glance at Shane, but he was staring straight ahead, expression a blank mask. 

“You need to stop this.” 

“Why should you have all the fun?” was Jess’ response.

The Shane in the recording sounded almost disappointed in her. “You know you’re going to get caught.”

“Please, no one is going to figure it out.”

Apparently Shane had gotten tired of sidestepping the question, because he stopped mincing words. “I don’t understand what you thought you had to gain. Why did you try to kill Bergara?”

Ryan flinched at the casual way Shane said it, but he held his breath, wishing, _praying_ , that Jess would be confused, that she would laugh and ask Shane what the hell he was talking about. 

Jess did laugh. But it was a mocking, derisive noise that struck Ryan deep in his chest. “Why the fuck do you think? He was in the way.”

There was a sharp inhale in the interrogation room. It took Ryan a moment to realize it had come from him. 

There was a rustle. Shane sounded resigned. “In the way of what, Jessica? Us? Because there is no ‘us’. We’re over. We’ve been over for years.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Jess said in a sudden low, throaty purr. The sound of heeled steps, then her voice was louder, closer to the recorder. “He’ll never accept all of you. But I do. I’ve proven that, haven’t I?” That purr turned soft, cajoling. “Think about it, Shane. The Lovers of Los Angeles. It has a certain ring to it, doesn’t it?”

“Jessica…” 

Why the _fuck_ did Shane sound tempted?

“All we have to do is get rid of Bergara. We could do it together, even.”

A very loud, pronounced rustle of clothing that produced crackling static, then Shane said ‘No!’ in a high pitched, almost scared voice. Another burst of static and a loud step that squeaked across linoleum. And now Shane sounded angry. “For fuck’s sake, Jessica. You’re insane if you think killing a cop would be a good idea.”

There was a faint laugh. “Wasn’t that your idea in the first place? I don’t know what bullshit excuse you gave for transferring, but I know Bergara was the real reason. You always did enjoy your little games.”

“If you touch him-”

“Yes, yes, you’ll kill me and leave my body on the precinct steps. But don’t forget, Shane. If you kill me, everyone will know the truth about you.

There was a long silence, then the faint sounds of a door opening and a couple of voices giving greetings.

“Interns!” Jessica said brightly, with none of the previous dark mockery. “You’re just in time for some lovely, lovely paperwork.”

There was the sound of groans under the sudden static and footsteps. More footsteps. A door opening and closing. 

“Fuck,” Shane whispered softly to himself. Then the recording cut off. 

The interrogation room was so quiet that a pin drop could have been heard. Ryan looked down with some surprise to see that he had been gripping the edge of the metal table so hard that he couldn’t actually feel his fingertips anymore. He pried his fingers away, flexing them in his lap with a kind of single-minded determination. The tingling pain of blood flow returning felt good somehow.

“Ryan.”

Ryan slowly looked up and met Hayes’ eyes. The man tilted his head to the side, eyebrows raised in silent question. In his own quiet way, the other detective was asking him if he was alright. 

The thought would have been appreciated if Ryan could have felt anything right then. He slowly shook his head, but didn’t bother to respond out loud. He didn’t think he could get any words out right then.

He had the vague notion that he was going into shock.

“Play it again,” Flores said abruptly. 

Moving like a robot, Shane stiffly hit a couple of buttons. 

It wasn’t any better the second time around. 

“This isn’t the first conversation like this that you’ve had with Schmidt, is it Madej?”

Shane shook his head. “No, sir,” he said, voice so level that it sounded unnatural. “She cornered me the first week I started here. She said some things that I dismissed at the time. After we nearly caught the copycat at Wright’s apartment, she accused me of betraying her. Since then she’s just gotten more blatant.”

“Why does she think you’re the Lover?”

“Sir, I…” Shane’s hands twitched behind his back. He took a deep breath, then made a little humming noise, as if trying to gather his words. “She said that the first woman the Lover killed was one that we don’t know about it. A Jane Doe that got punted over to cold cases pretty quickly. She said that the Lover-” Here he paused, then his mouth curled into a mocking little half-smile that looked creepy under his blank eyes. “That _I_ was sloppy and left evidence.”

Hayes sat up, eyes narrowing in thought. “What evidence?”

“A partial print and some hair. She showed me the lab results so that I would know she was serious. The print came back with nothing, but ah. Well. The hair was enough of a match to make it look pretty bad for me.”

“I take it she doctored the official results, then?” Flores asked. It was eerie how calm he looked. 

“I assume so, since I’ve never been questioned as a suspect for anything.”

Flores raised one eyebrow, then drawled, “And you didn’t kill this Jane Doe.”

Shane’s blank, dark eyes thawed enough to give him a faintly insulted expression. “Sir, if I killed someone, I wouldn’t leave evidence.”

Oddly enough, that was more convincing than any other protestation of innocence could have been. This _was_ Shane they were talking to. The general tension in the room relaxed slightly.

“Why _did_ you transfer from Irvine?” Hayes asked, bright eyes tracking Shane’s every expression.

“That’s not relevant,” Shane said with an air of discomfort. Surprisingly, it was Flores who waved the question away. 

“I know why, and he’s right, it’s not relevant.” Flores said. He narrowed his eyes, then straightened away from the wall, squarely meeting Shane’s gaze. “Are you the Lover?”

Despite himself, Ryan held his breath. 

Shane shook his head once, never breaking eye contact with the Chief. “No, sir.”

After a moment, Flores nodded. He gestured at the table. “Then pick up your damn badge and gun, Madej. We don’t have time for your dramatics.”

Shane blinked. “Sir?” There was faint hope under the surprise.

“And stop standing like that, you’re making my back hurt just looking at you.”

Looking like he was expecting to be yelled at at any moment, Shane relaxed out of his tight stance and carefully reached for his badge. He caressed the front of it once with one finger, then clipped it back onto his belt. They watched as he slung his holster back onto his shoulders. No one said a word about the fact that his hands were still shaking. 

“Don’t think you’re entirely off the hook.”

Shane’s expression went flat again. “Sir?”

“You should have come to us with your suspicions much sooner.”

“I wasn’t sure until she tried to drug Bergara.”

Flores just raised one eyebrow again. It was an effective technique.

Shane frowned, his eyes falling away. “If she’s arrested, she’s going to implicate me.” His shoulders rounded as he hunched forward. “I...would rather not be arrested as well.”

He wasn’t going to say it out loud, but it was obvious Shane was afraid. No officer wanted to be put behind bars. It rarely ended well for them. It was probably cowardly of him, in a surprisingly normal way, to have held his tongue, but it also made sense. It would take a brave man to risk his career and freedom like this if someone was essentially blackmailing him.

_Or a desperate man._

Ryan carefully pushed the away the memory of Shane’s wild-eyed look, of his promise to _stop this_.

For the first time since the recording had been played, Ryan spoke up. His voice caught in his throat, but he powered through it. “Would she have had access to your hair?”

Hayes caught on right away. “Any defense attorney worth their salt could get Schmidt’s ‘evidence’ thrown out if it was plausible she planted it.”

“I think she still had some of my things when we broke up. Possibly a hoodie? I never bothered to get them back.” Even as he said it, Shane sent Ryan a look of such relief and pride that something clicked in Ryan’s brain. 

Shane had been _hoping_ that someone would bring that up, but he hadn’t wanted to do it himself. Why? Was it because he would be more suspicious if he protested his innocence too much? Or was it something else? Was he trying to manipulate them into something?

With the right knowledge and access to DNA, it would be disturbingly easy to frame someone. But it would be just as easy to plant doubt the other way as well. They had Jess on tape admitting to wanting to kill someone. That put her every action into question. Throwing one more thing into the mix wouldn’t take much effort. All Shane would have to do is step back and let others come to the natural conclusion. 

_No, don’t think like that._

Ryan managed to make himself smile, though it probably looked ghastly. “Can’t prove a negative, right? Is that what you were worried about?”

“Something like that,” Shane said with an answering smile. It fell apart a little at the edges, but it was a genuine expression. Ryan felt some of the shock that had blanketed him melt away. His smile softened into something real.

Flores let out a gruff sigh. “Madre de Dios,” he swore softly. “Really?”

Both Shane and Ryan blinked at him. 

Hayes started snickering, watching them with an amused expression. 

“If _this_ ,” Flores gestured between the two of them, “becomes a thing, you’re keeping it out of the workplace.”

“Yes, sir,” Shane said with a blithely innocent grin.

“Yeah, boss,” Ryan squeaked. 

The weirdly normal, if embarrassing moment, somehow made everything hit Ryan like a speeding truck. 

_Jess wants to kill me._

He successfully choked back any sounds he could have made, keeping it to himself. The other three were in the middle of discussing upping the uniform presence around Ryan and he didn’t want to bring attention to himself.

Their voices washed over him as he tried to wrestle his emotions back under control. Now was not the time to fall apart. Not in front of his boss. 

Flores’ voice saying his name snapped his attention back to the present. “Sir?”

“I _said_ that you’re not allowed to go anywhere by yourself until we can figure out what we’re going to do about Schmidt. I shouldn’t have to say this, but definitely don’t go anywhere with her.”

Ryan nodded.

“Keep this to yourselves, you hear me? Half of the people here can’t keep secrets worth a damn. I’m going to talk to who I need to to get things set up.” A weirdly disgusted expression crossed Flores’ face. “Fuck, once this gets out I’m going to have Internal Affairs up my ass.” He shook his head, then pointed at Shane. “I’m taking that recorder.”

Shane handed it to him with only the faintest hesitation. 

Flores left with one last parting frown. Hayes stood, then offered his hand to Shane. “Pretty brave thing you’re doing, Madej.”

Shane shook his hand with a bemused air, clearly unsure what to say to that. “Right thing to do,” he offered belatedly.

“Right doesn’t mean easy,” Hayes said with a shrug. He saluted the two of them with cheesy wink, then hurried after Flores.

The door closed and then it was just the two of them in the room. Shane turned to Ryan with a surprisingly apprehensive smile. The expression didn’t fit him in the slightest. He started towards Ryan, then seemed to think better of it, and took the seat that Hayes had abandoned. 

Ryan truthfully wasn’t sure if he wanted to hug Shane or hit him. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around everything that had just happened. 

“Ryan? Are you okay?”

He sent Shane a scowl that clearly conveyed what he thought of that question.

“Right. I’m uh, sorry about Jess.”

“How long have you known?” Ryan hadn’t even realized he was going to ask that question until it was already out. 

Shane looked away. 

“Did you know before Cruz was killed?”

Those dark eyes flashed back towards him. “No, Ryan. I didn’t know then.”

Ryan sighed, the sudden relief of tension making him slump forward. He could understand why Shane had hesitated, but if his inaction had caused a needless death, Ryan wasn’t sure what he would have done. “You had your suspicions, though. That’s why you were so worried when I was...when she drugged me.”

Shane’s mouth turned down. “Yes. I’m sorry. I should have stopped her.”

“I guess you did in the end, though,” Ryan said. He looked down at his fingers. They were wrapped together as he tried to keep his thoughts in coherent order. “I’m sorry about today.”

“What?”

“When we found that trash can with the cleaning supplies. The thing I said about, uh, how you’d make a good serial killer. I’m sorry.”

Looking back on the day, it was no wonder that Shane had been acting odd. To know that an ex was killing people and thought he was the Lover, and then to have Ryan straight up compare him to a serial killer. It must have been hell. 

Shane let out a strained, disbelieving laugh. “Ryan, that was the least of my worries. It’s fine.”

Ryan shook his head. “We should get back to work.”

“Will you be able to work after all of this?”

“I can’t let Jess - Schmidt know that we’re on to her,” Ryan said with a faint attempt at a smile. “We’ve got to act normal.”

\----------------

Ryan had the best of intentions when he sat down at his desk. He had truthfully meant to go over the suspect list for Wallace and Kapoor, but once he sat down, he couldn’t do much more than stare at the screen in front of him. 

God, it had been such a long day. 

So much had happened, from finding possible evidence that could lead to the identity of the Lover to learning that Jess was the copycat and Shane had known for at least a few days. To top it all off, there was still a lingering headache from his adventure with rohypnol. It all kept running through his mind. He felt like phrases from the fucking recording were playing on a repeated loop in his head. 

The sound of Jess’ mocking laugh and the way she had practically fucking purred ‘Lovers of Los Angeles’ mixed with Shane discussing his death like it would be nothing more than a mild inconvenience. He knew Shane had been acting, but that was a thin comfort. 

The problem, the thing that kept creeping into Ryan’s thoughts, was the idea of Shane being the Lover made a sick, twisted sort of sense. He didn’t _actually_ believe it, but his brain couldn’t stop putting those pieces together. 

For the same reason that he didn’t instantly dismiss conspiracy theories about aliens or Men in Black, he kept returning to the idea. Shane was a tall man with the strength and knowledge to kill someone in a way that wouldn’t cause a struggle. He also knew how crime scene investigations worked and the most common mistakes murderers made. 

Of course, by that same logic, every police officer, Forensic tech, and even some First Responders over a certain height could fit the criteria. Fuck, he wasn’t going to go accuse Yang of being the Lover just because he was a perfectionist or Habersberger just because he was 6’3.

_Shane is obsessed with me._

That was so much harder to dismiss. Shane had been shamelessly open about his interest, his fascination with Ryan, from a very early point. And his transfer from Irvine had roughly coincided with the emails. Emails the Lover had never sent before Shane arrived. 

And there was now something sinister in the way Shane had promised more than once that the Lover wouldn’t hurt him. Ryan had a sudden sense memory of long fingers caressing his throat. ‘ _I think you’d already be dead if he wanted to kill you_ ’. Shane had said that with so much certainty, as if he knew it for a fact. 

Unable to stop himself, Ryan looked up to stare at Shane. And he found himself fucking giggling. Because the man was currently folding, with painstaking intensity, a paper airplane. 

_What the fuck?_

Shane looked up, winked, then proceeded to throw the plane with surprising accuracy into the little box of outgoing paper that Rubin kept on top of her desk. Rubin was too busy on the phone to notice the sudden addition.

_If this guy is a serial killer, I’m the fucking QB for the Chargers._

Ryan was mid-laugh when a hand fell onto his shoulder.

He yelped and almost fell out of his chair. He whirled around to see Jess watching him with an amused smile. 

“Hey, Bergara. Judging by that little act, you’re feeling better.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Ryan said, wide-eyed. His mind raced. Should he say he was roofied or should he play along with her lie that he had been sick? But she knew that Shane had taken him to the hospital and he would have been tested for drugs. “Other than a headache, yeah.”

_Oh my God, stop saying ‘yeah’._

Ryan took a deep breath, then smiled as naturally at her as he could. “What about you? You’re sure you’re fine? I can’t believe anyone was actually trying to roofie _me_ when you were there.”

Jess laughed, then proceeded to rest one hip on the corner of his desk. It was such a common thing that Ryan automatically leaned back in his chair to give her space. Them having little conversations like this had happened so many times that no one gave them a second look anymore. 

And that...that hurt. 

He had thought they were _friends_. 

Trying to hide the emotions that he knew were twisting his face, he looked away from her and accidentally caught Shane’s gaze. The man looked livid. He was glaring at Jess with such intensity that Ryan half expected to hear him start growling like a rabid dog. 

“Aw, Bergara, don’t put yourself down. Though I don’t know if being drugged is actually a compliment or not.” Jess tilted her head, her long golden hair falling in attractive waves down her shoulder. And - _Holy shit, she’s a tall blonde. Cruz said the woman used a J name. She really is the copycat._

Ryan was so stunned by the thought that he almost missed her question. 

“-was interrupted, you wanna come to my place tonight?”

Survival instincts rallied, and he opened his mouth to say no. 

A thought bubbled to the surface. _We need evidence_. And the same reckless urge that made him go into haunted houses while scared shitless or run into hostile situations without backup was now telling him to grab this opportunity. 

“Not tonight, but maybe we could hang out tomorrow after work? We could talk shit in the lab like we used to?”

Ryan heard Shane make a noise, but he ignored the man. Jess gave him a pleased little smile and how had he never noticed the cruel glint in her eyes?

“That could work, actually,” Jess said.

“Any room for a third wheel, Ryan?” Shane suddenly said. Ryan shot a glance at him and was shocked to see that there wasn’t a single trace of the previous anger on the man’s face. He looked casual and calm, just a friend inviting himself along. 

Just how good was Shane at lying?

Ryan had the abrupt sense that he was surrounded by predators. He swallowed hard, then made himself grin at Jess. “Sorry, Shane. Maybe just a girl’s night out?”

And Jess looked _triumphant_. She outright smirked at Shane. “I only have room for one gay best friend, sorry.”

Despite the severity of the situation and the fact that Jess was probably planning on _murdering_ him tomorrow night, Ryan couldn’t help the flinch at how loudly she had said that. Sure, probably only Rubin could have heard, but that was just one more person in a quickly growing list that knew. He gritted his teeth into a smile. “See you tomorrow night then. Text me the details.”

Jess patted him on the shoulder, like one would a dog, then left with one last gloating grin at Shane. 

As soon as she had left the room entirely, Shane turned to him. The anger was back. “The _fuck_ is wrong with you?”

“We can catch her in the act, the lab has cameras that can be turned on. We can get proof.”

“This isn’t the way to do that,” Shane said in a low, angry, growl. “If the Chief doesn't kill you for this, I’m going to.”

Shane was already turning away in disgust. He didn’t see the way Ryan paled.

\----------------------------------------------------

Upon hearing what Ryan had done, Flores proceeded to loudly and creatively rip him a new one. It would have been impressive if Ryan hadn’t spent the entire time staring at the Chief’s desk, a dull red flush making his entire body feel overheated. Shane’s presence next to him was no comfort, as he could feel the glare the man was shooting at him for the entirety of the rant. 

Even pointing out that he could just cancel his plans with Jess, that all he had done was created an opportunity, did nothing to calm down his boss. 

Once Flores had gotten the yelling out of his system, things had moved surprisingly fast. Working as quickly as he could, Flores secured a warrant for Jess’ arrest and notified a SWAT team to be on standby in case she did try something. He had even called the DA to ascertain if what they were about to do could be considered entrapment. He made Ryan sit there and listen to every second of that mind numbing conversation. 

Every person involved was sworn to tell no one. Something that should have been obvious, but Flores was paranoid and that actually made Ryan feel a little better. 

The last bit of Ryan’s work day was spent getting fitted for a bulletproof vest that was thin enough it could be hidden under his clothes. When he had pointed out that the copy cat had never shot a single victim, he had been ignored. 

Sore, exhausted, and nursing a steadily growing headache, Ryan slumped into his car with a weary sigh. He had grown so used to Shane following at his heels all day like a demented guard dog that he almost didn’t register his presence as the man slid into the passenger seat. 

“What,” he said flatly.

Shane calmly put on his seatbelt. “I’m not letting you out of my sight until Jess is behind bars.”

Ryan groaned, resting his forehead against his steering wheel. “There’s a pair of uniforms ready to follow me home, one already at my apartment, and Jess isn’t even going to do anything til tomorrow!”

Shane shrugged. “We don’t know that.”

In a way, it was comforting that Shane was so invested in protecting him. But a part of him was scared. He didn’t want to say it out loud, because he knew it would hurt Shane, but the unconditional trust he had felt in the man was slowly cracking away at the edges. He _knew_ Shane wasn’t the Lover. It just didn’t make sense. But that didn’t stop the ‘what-if’ thoughts. 

Giving it up as a lost cause, Ryan drove home. He ignored Shane until they reached his apartment. Once inside, he instinctively knew that Shane was going to reach for him, so he sidestepped away, making a show of taking off his shoes. 

“If you’re going to keep showing up here, you’ve got to learn to take your shoes off when you come in.”

Shane blinked at him, then awkwardly toed his shoes off, scooting them next to the pile that belonged to Ryan. 

Ryan could only stare for a moment. Ryan didn’t exactly have small feet, but Shane’s shoes next to his looked stupidly huge. It was also a weirdly domestic little snapshot. Shane’s dress shoes next to Ryan’s sneakers, boots, and slippers. They fit together, somehow. 

“You know what they say. Tall man, big shoes.” Shane said it with a joking leer, but there was something careful in the way he was watching Ryan. 

“Big head, big ass ego,” Ryan replied, downright scathing as he forced himself to look away from the stupid shoes. 

“That too.” Shane smiled, but it quickly fell. “Ryan…” He took a step forward. 

Ryan evaded him as casually as he could and made his way towards his bedroom. Shane followed him, because of course he did. The man stood in the doorway, watching Ryan as he loosened his tie and threw it onto the pile on top of his dresser. He shrugged out of his shoulder rig and put his gun in the little safe next to his bed, then held out his hand to Shane. 

Making it clear that he was merely humoring him, Shane unsnapped his gun from his holster, then handed it butt-first to Ryan. “Is this really necessary?”

“I’m not going to have loaded firearms just laying around my apartment,” Ryan said, carefully placing Shane’s gun next to his. He stared for a second longer than he should have. They were the same gun. Standard issue Smith & Wesson M&P 9. The gun the entirety of the LAPD had adopted years ago. There wasn’t a single difference between the two, other than some minor scratches. But he had never had more than one gun in his safe before. 

It was another domestic snapshot. Sort of. Well, it was domestic for members of the force. He grimaced to himself at his thoughts, then shut and locked the safe.

Normally he didn’t even lock it, since the safe was more for peace of mind than anything else, but for tonight, he didn’t want Shane to have a weapon. Not that he was going to tell Shane that. He already felt stupid for his paranoia. 

“You’re going to regret that one day when we’re being invaded and you can’t get to your gun because it’s locked in a box.”

“Invaded by who, Shane?” Ryan asked with scoff, Shane’s random statement making him forget his fear for one second. 

“I don’t know, aliens? That’s something you’re afraid of, right?”

Ryan spluttered. “I don’t think aliens are going to invade my apartment, you ass.”

“Maybe they already have,” Shane said with wide-eyes and an overly exaggerated eyebrow wiggle.”

“What, like _you_?” Ryan said with a laugh, grinning brightly at the other man and his stupid jokes. 

Something about Shane seemed to relax, and he walked towards Ryan, his hand outstretched. 

And Ryan flinched. 

It wasn’t something he meant to do. Hell, if he had had any control over himself, he probably would have stepped towards Shane, not away. But the stress of the day, the constant questioning of everything he had thought he knew, the fear, it had all become too much. And the roiling tangle of emotion had just manifested itself in one of the worst possible ways. 

Ryan tried to hide his reaction, but the damage was already done. 

The expression on Shane’s face _crumpled_. His hand hung in the air between them for a moment, before falling back down to his side. “Ryan…”

“Sorry, just a little jumpy,” Ryan said, trying to smile. “It’s been a really long day.” He gathered his courage, something he shouldn’t have needed to do, and started to move past Shane towards the bathroom. 

Shane stepped in front of him at the last second and Ryan came to an abrupt halt, his hands instinctively coming up to shield himself. Embarrassment flooded him, and he quickly dropped his arms. He let out a short laugh that sounded strained even to his ears. “What the hell, man?”

Looking down at him with a heartbreakingly sorrowful expression, Shane whispered, “You’re afraid of me.”

“What? No, I’m not-”

Shane leaned forward, looming in a way that made Ryan’s shoulders hunch in on themselves. Despite how much he made fun of the man's height, or the way he not-so-secretly found it hot, there were times when Ryan was forcibly reminded of just how intimidating Shane could be. This was one of those times. 

In that eerie way of his, Shane seemed to know exactly what was going through Ryan’s mind. 

He dropped to his knees.

Ryan stared down at him with his mouth open, unable to comprehend what was happening. He couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that Shane was currently kneeling in front him, looking like he was on the verge of tears. 

Slowly, as if trying not to startle him, Shane brought his arms around Ryan and pulled him into an embrace. On his knees like this, Shane’s face pressed into Ryan’s stomach. He could feel the man mouthing something, repeating one phrase over and over again. 

“Don’t be afraid, please, don’t be afraid of me.”

Unsure what to do with his hands, Ryan slowly set them on Shane’s shoulders. He was completely and utterly taken aback. Sure, sometimes Shane had gotten a little intense, a little manic, but he had never seen anything like this. Despite the position and the way Shane kept gripping at his hips, there was nothing sexual about what was going on. This was the culmination of every word, every look that Shane had ever given him that screamed how much he wanted to worship him. This was supplication. 

It scared Ryan.

It scared him how much he wanted it.

“Shane,” he said, interrupting the endless litany of pleading with a soft command in his voice. “Shane, look at me.”

The man stopped talking and turned wet, brown eyes up to Ryan’s face. 

Even as he opened his mouth, he wasn’t sure what he was going to say. The memory of how easily Shane had lied to Jess in that damned recording drifted across his mind. “Have you ever lied to me?”

For the first time, Ryan felt like he could read every emotion on Shane’s face. He saw fear, calculation, then a kind of dark, bitter acceptance. The man nodded.

“Tell me.”

Shane closed his eyes, then leaned his forehead against Ryan’s stomach. His voice was muffled but clear when he said, “Two nights ago. When Jessica drugged you. I deleted our text conversation from our phones. Resent it so that it looked like you had invited me. You were completely out of it then, so you didn’t question why I took your phone.”

Ryan’s fingers tightened on Shane’s shoulders, making the man sway forward and press himself even closer to Ryan. “Why?”

There was a little noise of frustration. “I...I didn’t want you to question why I was so afraid that you were alone with Jessica.”

“Why didn’t you just _tell_ me? You could have just told me you were suspicious of Jess.”

Shane shook his head against Ryan. “You would have never believed me over her.”

And that was probably true, no matter what hindsight said. 

Ryan licked his lips, then asked, “Is there anything else? Anything else you’ve lied about.”

There was a long silence, then Shane said almost timidly, “I never slept with another man.”

“You...what?”

“When I told you I took a man home? I didn’t. I lied so that you wouldn’t worry about me freaking out about being with a man.”

Ryan made some kind of high-pitched stunned noise that he hadn’t even known he was capable of. “I don’t understand. Why? Why would you lie about that?”

Shane’s laugh sounded wrong. Too dark, too close to tears. “Manipulating others for personal gain, remember? I told you. Sometimes I can’t help myself.”

Without examining the sudden urge, Ryan curled over Shane, just enough to press a kiss to the top of his head. “Oh, Shane…”

Shane’s fingers clutched tighter at him.

There wasn’t much Ryan could do about that, now. Maybe later he would examine his feelings on being the first man Shane had slept with, but it didn’t matter in the larger scheme of things. 

“Anything else?”

A shrug. “Little things. Nothing too big.”

There was one more thing that he could have been lying about. Something so much larger than planted texts or who he had sex with. Something that Ryan just couldn’t let go until he knew for sure. 

Feeling like he was about to step off a cliff, Ryan gently, tenderly, cupped both hands under Shane’s jaw, tilting the man’s head up until he could meet those soft, brown eyes. There was something intoxicating about having such control. About having this man on his knees like this. He took a deep breath. 

“Are you the Lover?”

It was a whisper, barely loud enough to be heard between the two of them. But the words seemed to echo in the room. 

Shane jerked in his hands. He closed his eyes, let out a long shaking breath, then looked up at Ryan with eyes that had grown dark and pleading. He made a little humming noise. 

“Ry…”

Ryan felt his stomach drop.

Shane slowly shook his head. “No.”

Ryan’s knees gave out under him. He slid down until he was kneeling as well. Gathering both of Shane’s hands into his own, he looked at the man through tear-filled lashes. “Promise me. Promise me, Shane, please.”

“I’m not the Lover,” Shane whispered, breathing the words across Ryan’s ear. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.”

God help him if he was wrong, but Ryan believed him. 

Shane freed one hand, then fingers were tangled in Ryan’s hair, pulling his head back. And then Shane was kissing him. It was a gentle, passionate kiss, slow and so very careful. Ryan melted into it. 

They stayed like that for too long, until their knees were screaming in pain. They haltingly helped each other up, then Shane drew him into a painfully tight hug. “You know I would do anything you asked, right?”

Ryan was beginning to think he didn’t quite understand the extent of that statement, but he nodded anyways. 

The rest of the night passed in a tired blur of quiet words and microwaved dinners, because both of them were too tired to actually cook. Instead of ignoring how Shane’s eyes followed his every move like he normally would have, Ryan met that gaze time and again, feeling a faint thrill of power at the absolute devotion he saw there. 

It was probably wrong to feel that way. Unhealthy, even. But he was tired and scared. And for one night, he wanted to feel like he was in control of _something_. Even if that something was another person. He was sure that when morning came around, he would feel terrible for using Shane like this. For tonight, though, he would take what comfort he could get. 

It wasn’t a surprise to either of them when the night ended with Ryan kissing his own come off of Shane’s lips, tangled together in a way that Ryan would have normally found annoying, but craved right then. 

They were drifting to sleep when Ryan said something that he didn’t dare examine. He didn’t even think he wanted to remember it. After tonight, he would push these words into the corner of his mind and never think about them again. 

“No more innocents.”

Shane stopped breathing for a moment. Ryan wouldn’t have even noticed if he hadn’t been so close to the man, but Shane was half on top of him, his mouth resting on Ryan’s shoulder.

“Of course, Ryan.”

The words were hushed and reverent. Pleased.

He could feel Shane smile.

For the first time in years, Ryan offered up a real prayer in the privacy of his mind. _Please, God. Don’t let me be wrong about this. Don’t let this be a mistake._

\-------------------------

Ryan came awake with a little gasp, flailing to stop the buzzing of his phone across his nightstand. The room was dark, with only the faint light from the street filtering in through the window. He managed to extract himself from Shane’s limbs, then he fumbled for his glasses and squinted at the message on his screen. It was from an unknown number.

His blood ran cold. 

_Come outside_

Attached was a photo of a woman that he hoped to God was just unconscious, lying slumped in the backseat of a car. 

_Five minutes or shes dead_

He gaped, his sluggish mind unable to comprehend what he was seeing. 

His phone buzzed again. 

_Tick tock_

There was no time to think. He couldn’t allow someone else to die or he would never forgive himself. 

Ryan flung himself out of his bed and through his apartment, ignoring the faint, sleepy call of his name. He didn’t bother with shoes or pants, he just ran out of his apartment in boxers and a tank top. Rather than deal with the elevator, he flew down the stairs, hissing in pain when his bare feet skidded across the concrete. 

As he pounded down the steps, he nearly made himself trip as he tried to type 911 into his phone one handed. He had no idea where the officer was that was supposed to be watching his building, but dispatch would get the information out to whoever was closest. 

The line clicked and he started talking as soon as he heard it. “Detective Bergara, ID number 4K-623, off-duty, trying to stop a 207A,” he gasped out, the numbers coming out of his mouth with ease despite the fact that he hadn’t actually had to use codes over the radio since he had become a detective. Ryan didn’t have time to repeat himself, so he clutched his phone in his hand and kept going. He kept the line live, hoping his phone would pick up any audio that might happen.

Or at least create a record of his death. 

The sudden adrenaline had finally cleared his head and he cursed himself even as he continued down the stairs. What he was doing was suicidal, but he couldn’t stop now. 

He dashed through the front door of his apartment building, frantically looking around at all the cars parked on the street. It was late enough that there was no one around, the street eerily quiet. 

There was no squad car in sight. 

He took a step toward the first car he saw. 

There was a scuff of sound behind him and he whirled, bringing his hands up into fists. 

Jess stood there, her pale hair gleaming under the streetlights, a cocky little grin on her face. 

In her hand was a gun. It was pointed straight at his head.

“Hello, Ryan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, Ryan can't catch a break. 
> 
>  
> 
> Thank you again for your comments and kudos, you lovely lovely people!  
> It's appreciated muchly!


	11. Chapter 11

“I'm impressed at how quickly you responded.”

Jess looked disturbingly normal. She was wearing one of her favorite blouses and sensible flat shoes. Her expression was almost pleasant. If it hadn't been for the weapon that she was holding, they could have just been two friends that had run into each other. 

“I thought for sure you were going to be late. I was almost looking forward to it.”

Ryan raised his hands, hoping she wouldn’t notice the phone clutched in the one. “Jess,” he said softly, training kicking in. “Put down the gun.”

That got him an amused laugh, the sound almost pretty in the quiet of the night. It was eerie. “I don’t think so, Ryan. Instead, you’re going to put down that phone, then get behind the wheel of the SUV behind you.”

_Damn it. Keep her talking, stall as long as possible._

Ryan started to bend over to put down his phone, but Jess made a clucking noise. “Move slowly and don’t try anything or we see just how fast the response time to a gunshot is in this neighborhood.”

He bit back the urge to ask her what exactly she thought he was going to do while wearing boxers and a tank. He slowly crouched and sat down his phone, then just as slowly stood up, his hands held out in front of him. “What are you hoping to get out of this? Maybe we could do it without the weapon?”

He kept his voice calm and casual, trying to ignore the sweat that was starting to drip from his temples. 

“We both know what I want,” Jess said with a cheerful smile. Under the facade of calm and the roiling fear, Ryan kept being astounded by how normal she was acting. “Shane must have told you about me. I wonder if he told you about himself?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re not as good of an actor as you seem to think you are,” Jess said, her smile turning condescending. “I knew Shane had told you as soon as you opened your mouth today. I’m impressed, really. I didn’t think he’d have it in him.”

There was no use in pretending that he didn’t know she was the copycat, not at this point. But it was to his advantage that she seemed to think Shane had told only him. “Jess,” he said soothingly, “I’m not in your way. You don’t have to do this. Just put down the gun and we can talk about it.”

Jess huffed a little laugh, then shook her head. “This isn’t a hostage situation you can try to talk your way out of. Your officer friends are busy with a little distraction I set up, so stop trying to stall. Start walking, Bergara.”

She didn’t know that Shane was in Ryan’s apartment.

A flare of hope rose up. He had heard Shane call his name, he knew the man was awake. He just needed to wait long enough for Shane to get curious and follow him out. Which he was bound to do, since he had been so paranoid about staying in sight of Ryan. 

Except he wouldn't be able to get his gun. Because Ryan had locked the safe. _Oh for fuck's sake._ He could almost hear Shane's 'I told you so.’

Still, Shane was his only real hope for getting out of this. Even if dispatch had gotten ahold of someone patrolling closeby, he had no idea how long it would take them to get here.

Ryan also knew the statistics around kidnappings. Actually getting into the car would narrow his chance of survival by a huge percentage. It was always better to scream for help and be shot in public than it was to be shot somewhere private. There was no way he was getting into that car, even if there was a woman’s life on the line. 

He took a small step backwards towards the SUV, keeping his eye on the gun, hoping she would think he was going so slow because he was afraid of her weapon. Frantically, he cast around for something to say, something to distract her. 

“I don’t have to get in between you and Shane,” he said reasonably, forcing his voice to remain level. He took one more step back to appease her. “You two can do whatever you want.”

Jess rolled her eyes. “Seriously? Shut up.” She shifted her aim and fired once.

The bullet hit inches away from Ryan’s feet with a sharp crack, sending chips of pavement flying everywhere. One hit Ryan across the leg, sending a searing pain through him that made him jump. The sound of the the gunshot echoed down the street.

Ryan turned wide eyes towards Jess. Shit, he really hadn’t expected her to actually fire. 

“If you’re not in that car in the next ten seconds, I’m going to take my chances, shoot you anyways, then kill the fucking woman.”

Ryan swallowed and nodded. Just as he was about to reach for the SUV’s door handle, he heard a screech of tires. Flashing lights lit up the buildings around him, and a squad car peeled around the corner. It slammed to a stop in the middle of the road, then Officer Morrison of all people flung open the door and crouched behind it, gun drawn. 

“LAPD” she shouted, her voice carrying in the night’s stillness. “Put down your weapon and get on the ground!”

Ryan met Jess’ eyes and he was shocked to see that she didn’t look scared or angry or anything that he would have expected. She just looked mildly frustrated. She frowned, then walked towards Ryan, keeping her gun pointed directly at his head. 

“You can’t shoot me any faster than I can shoot him,” she yelled back at Morrison. 

Over her shoulder, Ryan caught movement. His heart tripped. 

It was a good thing that Jess was distracted by Morrison’s arrival, because Ryan was sure his expression would have given everything away.

Shane was coming from the other end of the street, crouched to hide behind the line of cars parked along the sidewalk. He must have gone out the apartment building’s other door. Ryan hadn’t even known Shane knew about it. 

The man was barely a handful of yards away, but there wasn’t much he could do while Jess still had the gun pointed at Ryan from so close. Even if he tackled her, or Morrison shot her, the gun could discharge and hit Ryan anyways. If he was lucky, it would just hit him in the leg or arm. If he wasn’t lucky… Well. A bullet to the heart or lung would kill him just as quickly as a bullet to the brain.

Ryan had to get her to lower her weapon.

“Jess,” he said softly. Her eyes flickered to him. “Put down the gun and I’ll get into the car. I’ll drive wherever you want to go.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

“No, Jess, you're the smartest woman I know,” he replied. It was the truth, sadly. “You put down your gun, Morrison will put down her gun, and we can leave. I really don’t want to be shot and we both know I’d be caught in the crossfire.”

Ryan being forthright about how little he wanted to be hit seemed to convince her more than anything else did. Her stance wavered, the tip of her gun falling slightly. He didn’t think her indecision came from wanting to keep him safe, but from the fact that the dash cam in Morrison’s car would be recording everything that was happening. 

At the moment, she would just be charged with kidnapping and threatening a police officer. If she actually shot him? Attempted first degree murder. That was harder to wiggle out of. 

The gun dipped, pointing more at Ryan’s legs than his body. 

Shane took his opportunity, sprinting forward from behind a car and lunging. 

Maybe Jess heard Shane just as he started moving or maybe she had made the decision to shoot Ryan anyways, consequences be damned. She jerked the gun up and fired. 

Everything happened at once.

Shane hit her in a tackle just as she squeezed the trigger. Ryan ducked behind the SUV too late. It felt like he had just been hit by a baseball to the shoulder, then a sharp stinging pain that made him gasp. He instinctively clapped his hand against his shoulder, feeling hot blood start rushing down his arm. 

The sounds of a struggle made Ryan sway upright and stagger out from behind his cover, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

Jess and Shane were wrestling on the ground, Jess trying desperately to bring her gun into play, but Shane had a clear advantage. In fact, if she hadn’t had a weapon, it would have been over already. She tried to bring her knee up, but Shane flinched out of the way, wrapped one hand around her throat and slammed her head down on the ground. 

Obviously stunned, Jess’ body went limp. But she was holding onto her gun with grim determination, and it wavered in the air. It could go off completely accidentally, and Shane was so close that he could be hit just by being in the way. 

Aware of the danger, Shane shifted, straddling Jess and reaching for her wrist with his free hand. He smacked her fist against the pavement twice, until her grip loosened and the gun clattered to the ground. 

Shane grabbed it before she could scramble for it, put it in his right hand, then pointed the barrel directly between Jess’ eyes. 

Ryan felt like his breath froze in his lungs. 

There was a look on Shane’s face that was beyond anger. He was positively livid. And Ryan knew with absolute certainty that Shane was about to kill Jess. 

For the smallest of moments, barely a split second, Ryan had the urge to let him do it. To let Shane kill this woman who had already murdered three people and had every intention to continue. 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Morrison walking towards them, her gun trained somewhere between Jess and Shane, like she wasn’t sure who to aim at. And Ryan realized something. Morrison would have a body camera. There would be recording of Shane straight up murdering a downed and restrained suspect. 

There would be no coming back from that. 

Putting every ounce of command into his voice that he possessed, he straightened his back and barked out an order like a drill sergeant. “Madej. Stop!”

Shane went still. Keeping the gun pointed at Jess, he slowly turned his head to look at Ryan. There was a question in his eyes. 

Feeling like he was calling a dog to heel, Ryan shook his head once. “Shane, no.”

And Shane shuddered, then relaxed his tight grip on the gun. His finger uncurled from the trigger. He leaned over Jess and whispered something to her that made her eyes go wide, then dart to Ryan.

Unsure what the hell that was about, Ryan walked closer, still not entirely certain Shane wouldn’t just shoot her anyways. He caught the tail end of a sentence. 

“-was always better than you.”

Ryan made the choice not to question that. 

Feeling completely ridiculous in his stupid boxers and tank, he stepped up to Shane.

“Hand me the gun, Shane,” he said softly. 

He held out his hand, forgetting for the moment that his right hand was covered in blood. His shoulder had gone weirdly numb, and other than fresh blood dripping down his arm, he hadn’t even thought about it. Shane’s sight zeroed in on the red, then went straight towards Ryan’s shoulder. “Are you sure?” he asked just as quietly, some kind of promise in his voice.

Ryan’s voice fell to a near soundless whisper. “Body cam.”

Understanding dawned and Shane fucking _smiled_. He turned the gun over in his hand, offering it butt-first to Ryan, like a pet offering a fresh kill to its master. 

Ryan hated himself for making the analogy, but it fit all too well. 

He took the gun, grip slippery from the blood on his hand. Morrison walked up beside them and finally holstered her own weapon. She handed her cuffs to Shane, who hauled both himself and Jess to their feet in an impressive show of strength, then cuffed her hands behind her none too gently.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Morrison intoned, taking Jess from Shane and marching her towards the squad car. Morrison continued to recite the Miranda rights as they walked away.

As soon as their backs were turned, Shane was in Ryan’s space, gently but firmly grasping his arm under the bullet wound. Ryan hissed, the sharp pain starting to return. The area seemed to throb, and the blood hadn’t slowed in the slightest. 

Shane made a worried noise, moving to press his hand hard against the wound. “There’s no exit wound and you’re bleeding too much. We need to get you to a hospital.”

“You know a lot about this?” Ryan asked sarcastically through gritted teeth. There wasn’t much that he could do while still holding Jess’ gun, but the urge to slap at Shane’s hand was strong. _Fuck, this hurts_. He knew that they needed to keep the bleeding contained, but the pressure Shane was putting on his shoulder hurt, damn it. 

Who knew that getting shot would be so painful?

“I know a person can only lose about a liter of blood before it affects them and you look like you’re almost there.”

Ryan was about to answer when he had a sudden thought. “Shit! Shane, the woman, check the SUV, is there a woman in the back?”

Shane frowned. “What?”

“A woman! There was a woman in the text message, she looked drugged, or I hope so, I hope she isn’t dead.”

“What text message?”

Ryan made a frustrated noise. “Just go check, please.”

Maybe it was the please, but Shane sighed, took off his button up shirt, and pressed it hard to Ryan’s shoulder. “Hold this here.”

This was the first time Ryan realized that Shane was completely dressed. Huh. That’s what had taken him so long. 

It was awkward, holding the gun in his fist against his shoulder, but he didn’t exactly want to put the thing down. He watched Shane approach the SUV, peer into the windows, then swear. The man quickly opened the back door and reached in. 

“She’s alive,” Shane said. 

Ryan slumped in relief. “Thank God.”

Morrison coming up behind him made him jump. 

“There’s an ambulance on the way, it can take both you and the woman.”

“Thank you,” Ryan blurted.

Morrison shrugged, then frowned. “We should have been here, but there was a fire two blocks over. When dispatch reported your call, Quinn stayed and I took the car back here.”

“Still, thank you. I thought you didn't like me.”

She raised an eyebrow, then smiled. “I don’t, don’t worry.” Ryan snorted a laugh and she rolled her eyes. “Here, I’ve got gloves in the car. I can take the gun. And pick up your phone, you’re probably giving that dispatcher a heart attack.”

Ryan blinked, the looked around wildly for his phone. He had completely forgotten about that. 

Once the ambulance arrived, it was a flurry of activity. Morrison took the gun, Ryan thanked dispatch for staying on the line, then he was hustled into the back of an ambulance with the woman. More patrol units showed up and even a few curious neighbors started to filter into the street. 

The area in front of his apartment building was starting to look like a circus. He scowled even as he absentmindedly answered questions from an EMT. The wound hurt like hell, but his right arm was also sore from continually pressing against his shoulder. That didn’t seem fair. 

It was obvious to him that his mind was wandering, the adrenaline crash a real detriment to his ability to think. Maybe he could just let someone else take care of things for a few minutes. 

It seemed like he blinked and the EMT was replaced by Shane. 

“Are you alright? Ryan?”

“Hey, big guy,” Ryan said, blinking slowly. Fuck, he was suddenly tired. “I really want some fucking popcorn.”

“Alright Ryan, you go to the hospital and I’ll see what I can do about that, okay?” 

“They need to interview us,” Ryan protested. 

Shane shook his head. “I’ll handle that. You have to get a bullet removed from your shoulder, which is a little bit more important.”

Oh. That made sense. “Think I’ll have a scar? I’ve heard men dig scars.”

Shane smiled, looking tired and worried. It was kind of a comforting expression. “I don’t think that’s exactly how the saying goes, but yeah, sure. Men dig scars.”

“What about you?”

Shane glanced quickly around. Seated in the back of the ambulance like this, with the doors on either side of them, there was as much privacy as they were likely to get. He quickly took Ryan’s still-bloody right hand, then kissed his fingertips. “I dig everything about you.”

There was red on Shane’s lips. 

Under Ryan’s gaze, Shane licked the blood off his mouth absently, like he didn’t even know it was there. 

Ryan wasn’t sure if he was intrigued by the sight or disgusted. 

He quickly decided he was too tired to care either way. 

\----------------------

 

The entirety of the day _almost_ made Ryan wish had just ignored the stupid text messages and gone back to sleep. 

Getting the bullet removed had been hell, since he refused anything other than a topical anaesthetic and was determined to go to the station. He stubbornly checked himself out of the hospital as soon as Shane arrived with his clothes and badge, despite the fact that both the doctor and Shane looked like they were going to tie him to a bed. And not in a sexy way, either. Apparently gunshot victims weren’t supposed to just walk out of the hospital against medical advice. 

Well tough shit, Ryan had a job to do. They needed to gather as much evidence for Jess being the copycat as fast as they could, so that she could be charged for those murders as well. And if that meant going to work in a sling directly after surgery, so be it. 

They were in his car, Shane pointedly driving, when the man said, “By the way, our guns are still in your safe. Because I don’t know the code.”

“If you say ‘I told you so’, I swear to God, I’ll-”

“You’ll what?” Shane asked with raised eyebrows. “Agree?”

Ryan hit him with his sling. 

After dodging the gauntlet of reporters on the steps, Ryan took two steps inside the door of the station and was accosted by half the people working there. He was shocked to see the number of people that were patting him on his good shoulder or even just offering a nod. The news about what happened had definitely traveled quickly. He was a little touched by all of the support. 

He ignored the number of people gossiping about Jess. It still hurt. Not only because his friend had tried to kill him, but also that he had let a murderer get away with multiple homicides right under his nose. 

There was a long, nauseating interview with Chief Flores, then he had to repeat everything all over again to Detective Evans, who had been assigned to the copycat case along with Hayes. It went against policy for him to work a case that he was so directly involved in, so now he officially had to stick to information pertaining to the Lover.

Then he learned that the Criminal Investigation Division of Internal Affairs had already gotten their fingers into Jess’ files. To his utter shock, because he had thought she was smarter than that, they had found a hidden file or two that indicated some lab results she could have altered. Most of them in reference to the Lover’s homicides. 

With some quick work, she could be charged with the copycat killings as well as kidnapping. 

Ryan snapped a pencil when he found out that one news outlet had started calling the ‘unidentified female suspect’ the Jilted Lover. 

_For fuck’s sake._

The only real good news came when Hayes informed him that the kidnapped woman was on her way to recovering completely. She had been drugged at a bar and couldn’t remember much, but she would be in to give her interview the next day. 

Sheer dogged determination kept him awake all the way through the work day, then Shane swooped in from wherever he had been holed up with Flores and lawyers and took him straight home. 

“Have you even been to your apartment in the last couple days?”

“I stopped there to get a change of clothes before going to the hospital,” Shane informed him, unlocking his apartment door like it was something he did every day. 

Ryan scowled briefly before following Shane into his own freaking apartment, damn it. “We’re gonna need to have a talk about boundaries, aren’t we?”

Shane toed his shoes off and placed them next to the pile. Ryan absolutely did not feel warm at that sight. The man shot him a teasing grin. “We can talk about boundaries when you’re not bleeding through your bandages,” he said, then pointed at the couch. “Sit.”

Sure enough, there was a dark red spot slowly forming through the sleeve of his shirt. “Fuck,” Ryan swore softly, awkwardly taking off the sling and unbuttoning his shirt. His shoulder hurt with every movement of his arm, but he tried not to let it show on his face. He sat down on the couch and shrugged out of his shirt, annoyed when the fabric stuck to the bandage. There was no way that wasn’t going to stain. 

Shane had been digging around in a bag and he now came back with a roll of bandages, disinfectant, and medical tape, sitting next to Ryan with an absent frown. 

“Where did you get that stuff?”

“Doctor gave it to me,” was the off-handed reply as Shane rolled his T-shirt sleeve up, then slowly peeled the old bandage off his skin. “Told him I’d be staying with you.”

Ryan sighed and rubbed his forehead with his free hand. Because of course Shane would just tell someone that. 

The wound was an actual hole in his flesh, a little jagged and sluggishly dripping blood. It also hurt like hell and he really needed painkillers, but Shane’s focused expression was a fairly good distraction. He watched with sick fascination as Shane gently cleaned the area. “How does this not gross you out?”

Shane got a tiny wrinkle in between his eyebrows, as if he couldn’t quite understand what Ryan was asking. “Uh, we deal with dead bodies on a weekly basis.”

“Yes, but they’re usually not actively bleeding when we see them.”

That got him an eye roll. They fell quiet, Ryan trying not to flinch every time Shane brushed the edge of the wound. 

“How could I have missed this?” Ryan asked into the silence. Shane arched one eyebrow, but didn’t look up from his task. “I knew Jess for years. How did I miss what she was capable of?”

Shane’s movements slowed, his eyes down as if trying to think of an answer. “People see what they want to see,” he eventually said, pouring disinfectant onto a pad of gauze. “Denial is more powerful than people think. This is going to sting.”

Ryan blinked at the non-sequitur, then hissed when Shane gently, but firmly wiped the soaked gauze across his wound. He cleared his throat, then asked, “But there had to have been something I missed. There had to have been warning signs, or something.”

There was a long, weary sigh. “Why did it need to be you? What about her family, her friends outside of work?”

That was actually a good point. But it didn’t make him feel any better.

Shane taped a new bandage to his shoulder, then kissed him gently on the cheek, a quick brush of lips that Ryan almost didn’t register. 

Those little gestures of affection were going to be the death of him, he just knew it. 

“Well then her family should have noticed something.”

In the middle of gathering up the dirty gauze and bandages, Shane paused and looked directly at him, eyes somber. “No one wants to think their loved ones are capable of murder, Ryan. Maybe they did notice something. Maybe you noticed something. And then you convinced yourself that you were seeing things. You told yourself that it wasn’t possible or that there was a plausible explanation.” He shrugged half-heartedly. “Like I said. Denial is powerful.”

Ryan tore his gaze away from those dark eyes, unsure why his heart was racing. 

They ate a meal that consisted of eggs, bacon, and popcorn because Ryan hadn’t gone shopping in far too long. And he wasn’t exactly complaining. The fact that Shane had remembered what Ryan had sleepily asked for all those hours ago was disgustingly adorable. 

Ryan was awkwardly trying to rinse a plate in the sink when Shane came up behind him and wrapped him in a too tight hug. Ryan squeaked, a noise he’d deny forever, and dropped the plate with a clatter. Shane’s breath came too fast in his ear. He tried to turn, but Shane was holding him too tightly. 

“Uh, Shane?”

“She almost killed you,” was the quiet whisper. “If I hadn’t been there, if-”

“Hey, hey,” Ryan said, “No one died, it’s fine. You saved me.” He leaned back, resting some of his weight against Shane’s body. “Thank you for that. I don’t think I said it earlier.”

“Don’t thank me,” Shane said, sounding torn. “It’s my fault she ever went after you in the first place. If it wasn’t for me, she would have never seen you as a threat. It just, it makes me so angry that she thought she had the right to lay a finger on you. If anyone is going to hurt y-” he stopped abruptly, making a frustrated noise.

Ryan sighed, letting his full weight slump against Shane for a moment. The man swayed, but didn’t protest the sudden change. “You were about to say that if anyone was going to hurt me, it’d be you, weren’t you?”

Shane hummed, a quiet noise that Ryan could just barely hear. He interrupted whatever Shane was about to say. “Don’t lie.”

There was a catch of breath, then Shane leaned his forehead against the top of Ryan’s head. He huffed a small laugh. “Yes.”

“You are one creepy ass motherfucker, Madej.”

The arms around him tightened. “You like it.”

Ryan didn’t answer. He didn’t even want to answer that in his own mind. 

They stood like that in silence for a long moment. It was surprisingly comfortable.

“Can I fuck you?”

Ryan’s breath caught in his throat in sheer surprise. Just what was with this guy and his ability to so calmly say things like that?

“Uh-”

Shane shrugged, the movement feeling weird while wrapped in his arms like this. “You can say no.”

“You’re not very good with judging moods, are you?”

A soft amused laugh in his ear. “I’ve been thinking about it.”

“So have I, but I don’t just blurt it out.”

Ryan blinked, thought about what he just said, then closed his eyes and sighed. Alright, maybe he did just blurt it out. “Have you ever done something like this before?”

“Not with a man. Obviously.”

Well, reluctant respect to whatever woman had decided to take that on challenge. Ryan shook his head to clear his thoughts. It had been a ridiculously long day in a string of long days. His shoulder hurt, his other arm was sore, there was a scab on his leg from bullet ricochet, and his feet were littered with tiny cuts from running around with no shoes. And at this point his headache had become such a constant, he barely registered it anymore. 

What he _needed_ was a long, hot shower, strong painkillers, and about twelve hours of sleep. 

On the other hand, he had nearly _died._

Fuck it. 

Ryan took a deep breath, then straightened and turned to face Shane. “I’m going to go take a shower. Take some painkillers. You’re going to finish washing these dishes. Then. Well. We’ll see.”

“Yes, sir,” Shane said. His tone was mocking. His expression was painfully sincere.

_Fuck, what the hell have I gotten myself into?_

He had to tape a plastic bag over his shoulder, but the annoyance of having to do that was quickly wiped away by the sheer bliss of being able to stand under a stream of water that was just slightly too hot. The water pressure didn’t last long, since it was a shitty apartment, but it went a long ways towards leaving him relaxed. 

Staring at his blurry reflection in the foggy mirror after gulping down a couple of prescription strength painkillers, Ryan asked himself if he was really doing this. If he was actually going to go out there and let Shane fuck him. The sex wasn’t even the problem. Getting fucked into the mattress actually sounded like a really good idea after the day-week- _month_ he’d had. 

But this was Shane he was thinking about, and it was impossible to do anything casually with that man. With someone else, it would be a release of tension. With Shane, it would be one more in a string of actions that continued to tie them closer and closer together. Like a line of dominos that he couldn’t see the end of. It felt like he was slowly losing his sanity with each step along that path. 

Ah hell, it was just sex. When had that ever gone badly for someone?

Ryan snorted to himself, wrapped a towel around his waist, then walked into his bedroom like he didn’t have a care in the world. He wasn’t surprised to see Shane sitting on the end of his bed. At some point the man had decided to take off his dress shirt and socks. He looked comfortable in the room, like it was his own bedroom.

The expression on Shane’s face when he caught sight of Ryan wearing nothing but a towel was flattering, but Ryan took some kind of perverse joy in acting like nothing was different. “Seriously? Personal space doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”

Shane drug his eyes up to Ryan’s face, swallowed, then shook his head. “Purely theoretical concept.”

“That doesn’t even make sense,” Ryan said, turning towards his dresser and dropping the towel just as he walked past the man. He grinned to himself when he heard Shane make a faint, frustrated noise. He opened one drawer, ostensibly to find a pair of boxers, then hands grabbed his hips and pulled him back towards the bed. 

He yelped, then laughed when he was tripped onto the mattress, the action making him bounce slightly. Suddenly there were hands on either side of his head, Shane hovering over him with a mock-glare. “You’re a tease,” he accused.

Ryan smiled widely at him. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

Shane let out a little laugh and started to lean down to kiss him, but hesitated at the last second. His gaze darted back and forth, searching Ryan’s eyes. “This a yes?”

Smile turning soft and little nervous despite himself, Ryan nodded. “Yes.”

The kiss that got him was altogether too sweet for what they were about to do. Ryan tangled his fingers into Shane’s hair, gently yanking his head to the side, changing the angle of the kiss until it was deeper and filthier. And so that he didn’t hit Shane’s nose with his own, which was maybe something that had happened once or twice. 

The memory of the time that had happened in the shower made him laugh into Shane’s mouth. The man pulled back with an amused huff. “You’re not supposed to be laughing.”

“The day I stop laughing at you is the day-Oh. Oh…” Ryan’s words ended in a gasp, surprise and pleasure twisting through him at the way Shane had straight up grabbed his cock. He was still soft, but he wasn’t going to remain that way for long if Shane was just going to go for it like that. 

There was a mouth worrying a mark onto his neck, sending delicious shivers down his spine, but most of his attention was on Shane’s hand. The man was stroking him just this side of too gently and Ryan arched into him, chasing that sensation, trying to get _more_. 

Shane’s mouth trailed down his shoulder, nipping and licking at his collarbone, his pec, his nipple. It was like Shane had decided now was the perfect time to taste every inch of his chest, like they had all the time in the world. 

And he wasn’t touching Ryan’s cock anywhere near hard enough. Every soft caress and pass of fingers was driving him closer to insanity, he was sure of it. “You’re the fucking tease,” he gasped out, writhing in an attempt to get more pressure. 

“Behave,” Shane whispered into his ear, his laugh a quiet rumble of sound. 

Well there was no way Ryan was going to stand for that. Taking the man by surprise, he surged upwards into a kiss, pushing at Shane’s chest until he was forced to kneel up. He fumbled at Shane’s shirt, his sore shoulder making the action awkward. Shane finally took the hint and took it off himself, letting Ryan drag his hands down ribs and sides. He was thwarted from going any further by a belt. 

“Pants off,” he demanded, tugging once at the belt.

“Someone's bossy,” Shane said, sliding off the bed with a small smirk. 

“Shut up, Shane. If I let you set the pace, I'd fall asleep before anything actually happened.” 

A devilish little glint lit in Shane's eyes. His smirk widened as he unbuckled his belt and casually pushed his pants and boxers down in one go. “Are you that eager for my cock?”

Ryan’s eyes went wide, his breath stuttering. He hadn't expected that. Sure, it wasn't exactly the filthiest thing he'd ever heard, since one teasing sentence barely counted as dirty talk, but for some reason he had just never expected _Shane_ to say something like that. 

The man in front of him could be disarmingly normal at times, weirdly grandiose with his vocabulary, or even surprisingly casual about topics others shied away from. But Shane had always been oddly polite about sex. The small handful of times they had done anything together, he had said very little. 

It was a stark reminder of just how little he knew about this man he was falling for. Two blowjobs and some clumsy fumbling in a shower were not enough data for making assumptions.

What it boiled down to? Shane saying that was kind of hot. 

Ryan felt the back of his neck grow warm. “There’s condoms and lube in the nightstand,” he said with a scowl, just daring Shane to say something about his reaction.

Shane’s expression managed to become even more pleased, but he kept his mouth shut. Ryan laid down, leaning back on his elbows and taking the opportunity to study the way the muscles in Shane’s ass shifted with each step away from him. Objectively, Shane was an awkward, gangly individual with too long limbs, too big of a head and nose, and a thin layer of pudge around his waist. And yet Ryan had grown to think of him as one of the hottest men he knew. 

Something about how mercurial his eyes could be, the way his usual slouched stance could straighten into something intimidating and alluring. The casually controlled strength in those lean muscles. It all came together to make Shane so much more attractive than he had any right to be. 

After successfully finding everything in the nightstand, Shane turned to see that Ryan was watching him. He raised one eyebrow, then grinned and struck a dramatic pose.

_Nevermind, this guy is nothing but a goofball._

“I take back anything nice I might have been thinking about you.” 

Shane gasped, tossing things onto the bed, then crawled over Ryan in a way that shouldn't have been as hot as it was. “Nice things about lil’ ol’ me? I'm touched.”

“In the head,” Ryan muttered, then yanked Shane down into a kiss, letting his fingers roam across that broad back. Shane made a quiet, hungry noise, letting most of his weight rest on top of Ryan.

Despite Ryan's earlier protests about Shane going too slow, they stayed like that for an indeterminate amount of time. It was a lazy exploration, hands skimming everywhere they could reach, mouths and tongues working together in an absent way. Shane was conscientious about Ryan’s shoulder, but the _very good_ painkillers had begun to take effect, and Ryan was starting to forget he had even been shot. 

Shane leaned back, just enough that he could study Ryan’s face. They were both breathing hard, mouths red from stubble burn. “Turn over?” he asked quietly. 

Ryan shook his head. “I want to watch you.”

Soft, brown eyes suddenly dropped, and Shane sat up, rubbing the back of his neck. _Holy shit, is he blushing?_ Ryan hadn’t even known that was a reaction the man was capable of. 

“I-uh. I’m not...exactly small. Maybe easier on your stomach?”

Oh, that was adorable. “Unlike somebody, not my first time,” Ryan said. He didn’t laugh, because that would probably be a little cruel, but it was a close thing. “Maybe let the guy who has done this before make the decisions.”

Something dark flickered across Shane’s face before he nodded. And then a quick little grin quirked his lips and Ryan just knew he was about to say something stupid. 

“Dat ass, though,” he said almost mournfully. 

Ryan burst into laughter. “No, nope, you’re done. You are way too white to say that, I’m out.”

“Ryan,” Shane whined, making him laugh harder. He was too distracted by the stupidity of the joke to notice what Shane was doing. The man above him shuffled, nudged the back of Ryan’s thigh until he moved it, then there was suddenly a cold, slick finger sliding down under his balls and -oh. He gasped, surprise making the noise louder than intended. 

“Fuck,” he breathed, because yeah, he’d done this before, but it had been awhile. 

Shane took his own sweet time, almost to the point of driving Ryan mad. Each movement was slow and measured, every twist and crook of his finger carefully controlled. It felt like an eternity before he added a second finger. Ryan would have said something, would have demanded that they hurry this along, but Shane looked so _fascinated_. His dark eyes roamed continuously, like he wanted desperately to watch what he was doing but was afraid to miss even a single reaction on Ryan’s face. 

The stretch from the third finger being added made Ryan twist, throwing his head back in a long moan. Then Shane found his prostate and the feel of the electric sensation zapping down his spine made Ryan produce noises that were downright filthy. Shane’s lips parted on a faint moan, his expression stunned. He looked like he was having a religious experience. 

Ryan would have mocked him for it, except that he wasn’t going to do a single thing that would stop that slow slide and twist of fingers. 

Shane closed his eyes and bit his lip, looking like he was barely hanging on by a thread, despite the fact that he hadn’t touched his own dick once since this started. He pulled his fingers out, then reached to the side and grabbed at the condom, fumbling it onto himself with hands that shook ever so slightly. 

There was a moment of hesitation, then Shane leaned over and grabbed a pillow, placing it under Ryan when he oh-so-helpfully tilted his hips up. Shane’s eyes went slightly distant, darting around, like he was going through a mental checklist. Ryan was both amused and touched by the idea of Shane doing research. 

Slightly sticky fingers smoothed down Ryan’s leg, then hooked around his ankle, gently shifting his leg to the side. 

“Some time today,” Ryan said, not quite hiding the strained quality to his voice. 

Shane blinked, rolled his eyes like Ryan was being ridiculous, then took ahold of his cock and pressed inside Ryan with a tiny grunt of effort. 

Ryan’s breath left him in one extended, low groan. The stretch was bearable, because Shane wasn’t particularly thick, but he was long. Ryan squeezed his eyes shut, huffing with each little push that seemed to go on forever. He outright growled through gritted teeth when Shane paused, though, adequately conveying how he would feel if the man even thought about stopping. 

He felt arms on either side of his head, and he opened his eyes to see that Shane was braced over him, his expression one of carefully controlled frenzy. Ryan wondered what it would take to break that control. Then Shane rolled his hips and Ryan forgot any thoughts that might have ever been in his brain. 

Wrapping one leg around Shane’s thigh, he pulled the man down to him, muscles in his arms flexing at the urgency he felt. The angle changed Shane’s slow thrusts into something shallower, but Ryan needed to get his mouth on Shane’s _right now_. Their lips and tongues clashed together in a messy kiss that could barely be called such. Shane was muttering continuously between each attempt, half-uttered praises and moans, while Ryan was panting and groaning, unable to stop the noises coming out of his mouth. 

The new position trapped his cock between their bodies, the pressure always on the verge of not quite right. It was frustrating. It was perfect. It made him writhe, just to try and chase that pressure. 

He felt downright exultant when Shane _finally_ started to increase the pace, each thrust coming harder and faster. He clawed at Shane’s shoulders, finger tips digging into the man’s shoulder blades, reveling in the feel of sweat-slicked muscles shifting under skin with each moment.

Ryan outright whimpered when Shane went still and pulled his head away. He met Shane’s gaze to see a question in nearly black eyes. “Wha-” 

“Can I…” Shane trailed off, then shifted until he was balanced on one arm. His free hand came up to caress Ryan’s jaw, then fingers drifted down his neck. 

“Now is not the time to be asking,” Ryan gasped, frustration clear as he rolled his hips in an attempt to feel that cock moving inside of him.

Shane pressed his lower body down, effectively stilling Ryan’s movements. “Please?” The man sounded wrecked, like he was asking for the world and didn’t think he would get it. 

Maybe if Ryan had been thinking clearly, he would have said no. They hadn’t discussed this, they didn’t have any plans in place. But any decision making abilities he might have once owned had gone out the window some time ago. 

“Fuck,” he said. “Fine. I tap your arm, you stop. You understand?”

Shane nodded quickly, like he was afraid Ryan would change his mind. “Yes, sir.”

Ryan’s mind stopped working for a moment. _That-that isn’t. What? Huh._

He relaxed against the mattress, letting his head fall back. Shane hovered over him, a strangely nervous expression on his face. Ryan raised one eyebrow, silently telling him to get on with it. 

Shane’s hand drifted down Ryan’s chest, then back up, before settling delicately against his throat. His thumb brushed against the curve of Ryan’s jaw. God, his hand felt huge like this. There was no pressure, simply the weight of Shane’s hand resting against his Adam’s apple. But even that was enough to make Ryan shift, little circles of his hips that seemed to remind Shane that he was supposed to be moving. 

If Ryan had thought that Shane was moving slowly before, this was positively torturous. Each gradual roll of Shane’s hips were a delicious slide of friction. He was keenly aware of every single inch that was slowly thrusting in and out of him. Only some of those thrusts would hit his prostate, but the very unexpectedness of it was a shock to the system of that was winding him closer and closer to orgasm. 

Shane was watching him intently, eerily quiet after the way he had been babbling soft words earlier. Every half-muffled gasp and groan that Ryan let out seem to make his focus grow sharper. His hand tightened the smallest amount around Ryan’s throat, finally starting to deliver what that gaze was promising. 

Ryan whined at the feeling, even that small squeeze enough to make him buck up under Shane, suddenly desperate for more. “Please,” he rasped, “Harder.”

Shane took him at his word, tightening his hold even as he started to pound into Ryan. It was too much too fast and Ryan gripped at the sheets under his hands, just to have something to hold onto. He arched up, into Shane’s hand, and that seemed to break Shane. 

The man groaned, his thrusts becoming stilted and uncoordinated. “Touch yourself,” he pleaded, voice low and strained. 

Ryan’s breath was coming in harsh, shallow gasps and the edges of his vision were starting to go fuzzy, but he shoved away the growing worry. He grabbed his own cock, squeezing too hard, too rough, but it only took three passes of his hand before he was coming, drowning under the feelings of the cock pounding into him and the hand squeezing the very life out of him. His vision actually went black for a second. 

When he blinked, his sight cleared in time for him to see an expression cross Shane’s face that honestly scared him. There was a dark temptation, a kind of savage glee that turned Shane’s open-mouthed grimace of effort into something terrifying. But the truly disturbing thing was that the look on Shane’s face actually made Ryan’s cock twitch, one last spurt of come dribbling onto his stomach. 

Shane closed his eyes, moving his hand back from Ryan’s throat before the fear could become something that ruined the moment. There were two hard, almost brutal, thrusts that shoved Ryan up the mattress, then Shane shuddered. He came silently, curved over Ryan in a long, taut line. 

After a trembling second, Shane pulled out, then collapsed to the side, half on one of Ryan’s legs. They lay there together, both panting for a long moment, then Shane shifted, propping himself up on one elbow just enough to kiss Ryan’s good shoulder. He relaxed against Ryan, their bodies pressed together at the sides in one long line of too-hot, sweaty skin. It was a little gross. Neither of them bothered to move. 

Ryan was drifting off, seriously contemplating just falling asleep right there, when a thought struck him. 

“Ah fuck, that’s my pillow under my ass, isn’t it?”

Shane started laughing, the sound breathless and joyful. It was too infectious not to join in.

**********************

Ryan didn’t exactly skip into work the next morning, since he was far too sore for that, but he knew he was a little too cheerful. Shane had woken him up with Starbucks and a breakfast burrito, which had been too touching for words, and last night’s activities hadn’t made his shoulder started bleeding again, like he had feared would happen. Really, it had been a great start to the day. 

The secretary at the front desk gave them a suspicious look. “Boss wants to see the two of you,” she said. 

“Thanks,” Ryan said with a grin, laughing to himself when that just made her eyes narrow even further. Shane nudged him, rolling his eyes with fond exasperation. 

Knowing that Flores wouldn’t want to talk about anything good, Ryan forced himself into a semblance of seriousness before knocking on the Chief’s door. 

They stepped inside to be greeted by Flores and two men in expensive suits. Equally expensive briefcases sat next their feet and Ryan tried not to wince. Lawyers. He wasn’t a fan. 

The men greeted them and everyone endured the round of shaking hands. Bauer and Silva, defense attorneys that regularly worked homicide cases. Ryan had a growing feeling of distrust. Why exactly were they meeting these two?

“So, as you know, Dr. Schmidt has agreed to a plea of no contest, provided that Detective Madej also be put on trial,” Silva said. 

Ryan shot a quick glance at Shane, because no, he did not know that. He had known that Madej had been in meetings with lawyers yesterday, but that wasn’t that uncommon for detectives. He hadn’t even thought twice about it. 

“Since Madej has agreed to the terms, we’re here to go over what will be happening and also ask you both some questions,” Bauer said. 

_Shane has agreed to do what now?_

“There are a couple more dates she's given us that we need to verify your alibis for.” 

Shane nodded calmly, as if they weren't discussing the possibility of him going to jail. It took all of Ryan’s willpower not to outright stare at him. Just how much had he missed yesterday?

Silva asked about a couple of days in January, one in February. Ryan recognized them as being days that coincided with the estimated times of death of some of the earlier Lover victims. He did his best to not let the growing sickness in the pit of his stomach show. Jess pleading no contest meant that she would be put in prison for a very long time. But for Shane to put his life in the hands of a jury like this? It was terrifying. Ryan wasn’t sure he would have had the nerves to agree to such a thing. 

After a moment of contemplation for each date, Shane was able to guess that he had been at work or in the company of others for most the day. He frowned when he admitted that he didn't have any witnesses to his sleeping hours, since he lived alone, but Bauer assured him that was common. They merely needed to establish that Shane didn't have the kind of lifestyle that would lend itself to setting up elaborate murder scenes. 

Then they asked about his whereabout between March nineteenth to the twentieth.

That was the day after Shane's first night at Ryan's. Two days before the bodies of Wallace and Kapoor were found. Shane had spent the entire morning with Ryan. 

Shane's eyes did not flick to Ryan's, but he did stutter. “I uh, was at a friend's on the nineteenth. Then I came into the station for a few hours. The day after I was helping another friend move.”

“Can you provide us with their names?” 

“Ah, I was helping Detective Rubin move.”

Ryan frowned, sending a puzzled glance at Shane. Why hadn’t he just told Ryan that?

“And the other person?”

Ryan knew Shane was about to make a mistake as soon as he opened his mouth. He could see it in the way the man looked away, then made a little contemplative humming noise. “I’d rather not say.”

Well, shit. 

If Shane had just baldly stated ‘I spent the night at Bergara’s’, no one would have blinked. The assumption would have been that they hung out and Shane was too drunk to drive home. Something innocent and completely heterosexual. It was a tactic Ryan had learned early on. You could point blank tell someone that you had spent an entire weekend with another man, and very few people would make the ‘oh my god, they were having gay sex’ connection. By dodging the question, that meant Shane had something to hide. 

The really fucked up bit was that he knew Shane was doing it for him. Shane had made it clear that he personally had no problem with being public with their fledgling relationship. But he had said that he would follow Ryan’s lead and Ryan cared about his career too much to casually flaunt being any more different than he already was. 

Both lawyers straightened up in their chairs, attention sharpened. “Madej, your case will be easy, but only if you tell us everything.”

He could see Shane’s jaw clench, but the man said nothing. 

Ryan thought about how hard he had worked over the years, how proud he was of how far he had come. The coworkers who greeted him every day with a smile and a wave. He thought about the taunts and suspicion he had endured during the Academy and how hard it had been to continue. 

And then he thought about Shane behind bars. And the kinds of things that happened to police officers in jail. He didn’t think that this one discrepancy would mark Shane as guilty, but it could be the linchpin that made his entire defense crumble. 

He knew enough about court procedures to know that Shane’s trial would be easy, but only because the idea of a detective being the murderer was patently laughable. And only if there was no plausible evidence. 

Ryan took a deep breath. The sound made everyone in the room turn towards him. 

“Madej was with me that morning.” _Fuck, just say it_. “He spent the night.”

Everyone was too professional to show much of a reaction to that, but he saw the way Silva shot a glance at Bauer, then relax. 

It was Flores who spoke up. “Are you willing to testify that in court?”

Ryan knew what he was asking. Once it went into the public record, there’d be no turning back. No more hiding. He swallowed. “Yes, sir.” 

Flores stared at him for a moment, then nodded. 

There were more questions, more explanations about what Shane could expect. Ryan sat numb throughout, only responding when a question was asked directly to him. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed when they were finally dismissed. 

Shane followed him out the door, then gently grasped his arm to stop him. “Ryan, thank you.”

Ryan turned to him abruptly. “You’re a fucking idiot, Madej,” he hissed. “If you just said you spent the night, no one would have assumed a fucking thing and it would have been fine. Of all the times for you to come off as cagey, you just had to fucking pick then.”

Shane looked taken aback. “I didn’t want-”

“Didn’t want to out me? Because guess what, it just happened.”

The other man let go of his arm, hunching in on himself like a kicked dog. “I’m sorry.”

“Fuck,” Ryan swore, mad at himself, mad at Shane, but mostly just mad about the fact that he couldn’t keep up his anger in the face of Shane’s obvious contrition. There was a tense silence. “Why didn’t you tell me you were helping Rubin?”

Now Shane looked uncomfortable. “Habit. I didn’t want you to assume anything.”

Ryan rubbed at the bridge of his nose and sighed, feeling the anger drain out of him until he was just tired. “You know that makes you look more guilty, not less.”

“Ryan, I’m not exactly subtle in my regard for you. Even if I was interested in her, do you really think Rubin would stand for being used like that?”

Well. No. 

Ryan's response was interrupted by Flores shouting his name. 

They both turned in surprise. 

“Bergara, I need to talk to you. Privately,” Flores added with a glare at Shane. 

The two exchanged a glance, but there wasn’t anything Ryan could do except go into Flores’ office. The door was barely shut behind him before Flores started talking. 

“Do you trust Madej?”

Ryan blinked. “Yes?” 

Flores sighed, looking more tired than usual. “I need you to keep an eye on him.”

“Sir?”

“I don’t think he’s our killer. But there’s something off about the man. I think he knows something. I don’t know if it’s about the case or if he’s just naturally that way, but it’s pissing me off. And you’re in the perfect position to watch him.”

Ryan frowned, not liking whatever Flores was implying. “Sir, I don’t think-”

“Bergara, the Lover is still out there,” Flores said, spreading his hands on his desk. “Don’t forget that. And until we catch him, people will die.”

There wasn’t much Ryan could say to that. He left the office feeling a little dazed. A little nauseous. 

It was just as he was walking towards his desk when he noticed that Shane was already sitting there, an adorable frown of concentration on his face as he wrote something on some paperwork. He happened to glance up and catch Ryan’s eyes. He smiled, his expressive face conveying every mushy, warm thought that was passing through his head. 

_The Lover is still out there._

The words echoed in Ryan’s mind. 

He shivered. And looked away from those soft, brown eyes.

####  End of Part One

## 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're about to have fun, kinky sex, make sure you discuss it with your partner first! 
> 
> Yes, there will be two parts! Part two is going to be a little different, with something new and interesting. Hopefully in a good way! And if you're worried that this is going to drag on forever, keen-eyed observers will see that there's a chapter count now. I have _plans_.
> 
> I say this every chapter, but it remains true. Thank you so much for your comments and kudos! I'm actually getting a little afraid that I won't be able to live up to the hype :P


	12. Interlude- You Want It Darker

It was a shitty house in a shitty neighborhood. A thin building with a sliver of bare dirt to serve as a yard. It was almost identical to the houses next to it. Something about the line of tired houses reminded him of the old steel mill towns that were littered throughout the Midwest. 

Not for the first time, he idly wondered if he would ever see his home state again before his mistakes caught up to him. 

Sometimes he grew tired of palm trees and endless heat. Especially now, during the hottest part of the late summer. 

He stepped out of the squad car, not allowing himself to pluck at his uniform the way he wanted to. It was tight around his stomach, which was embarrassing, but there was some pride that it was tight around his shoulders and biceps as well. 

Ryan liked muscles. 

The thought of his _lover, reason for existence_ \- partner made him remember that he had a task to accomplish. He rolled his shoulders back, assuming the harried, self-important expression of a cop that knows he’s the wrong color for the neighborhood but feels protected by his badge.

There was an under-inflated basketball next to the front steps. At the corner of the house, nearly buried in the dirt, was a cheap, plastic doll. Signs of the _wasteful, pointless_ \- tragic circumstances that brought him here. 

He knocked on the door, three sharp raps that echoed. When there was no answer, he knocked again, louder. He heard a faint, angry yell. 

The door opened an inch, and he was surprised to see a woman behind the chain of the deadbolt. She stared at him, then closed the door just enough to unlock it, before opening it wide enough that he could see her.

“Ms. Thompson?” He asked, ducking his head, both in an effort to seem charming and to hide his height. He hadn't expected her to be living here still. A brief moment of regret passed through him that he hadn’t worn the uniform hat. It would have helped obscure his face and hair color. 

“Is there a problem, officer?” She asked in a tired, rough voice. Her tone suggested ‘Is there _another_ problem?’ Judging by the rasp in her words, she had been crying. 

Layla Thompson was a beautiful woman. Bright blue irises surrounded by thick, spiky lashes, making her eyes stand out like stars against her lovely mocha skin. Even like this, with dark circles, reddened eyes, and the healing bruise that marred one high cheekbone, she could have been a model. 

He idly pictured the pleasing contrast his hand would make against her throat. 

He let the thought slide away. She couldn’t compare to what he already had. 

A flash of imagery through his mind, of toned muscles and golden skin. The pattern of red marks his fingers left behind. He had to close his eyes, just for a second. 

No, he couldn’t get distracted. 

“I’m here to escort Leo Taylor to the courthouse,” he said softly, noting the way Layla flinched at the man’s name. There was a question in her eyes. A tiny hint of confusion that could spell trouble for him if she chose to argue his presence. There wasn’t much he could do if she decided to call the courthouse to confirm his statement. 

That spark of life drained away, buried under limp, heavy sorrow. Better for him, but disappointing in a way. It was a pity that Taylor had happened to this lovely creature. 

The fun he could have with a woman so beautiful-No. No, he had promised. He could- _would_ be good. 

Layla nodded, then turned and slowly walked away from him. She left the door open and he took that as invitation enough. He stepped just inside, automatically resting his hands on his duty belt. That was amusing. Over four years since he had last worn the entirety of his uniform, but the old habits were coming back fast. 

He could just hear the edges of a conversation. Layla’s quiet murmur, a man’s voice raised in anger. “What do those fucking pigs want now?” drifted down the narrow hall. 

His mouth curled into a smirk. Oh, this was going to be fun. 

Taylor strutted aggressively into the hallway, a belligerent cast to his face. A cloud of stench drifted along with him, the smell of stale beer and cheap cigarettes a physical presence. He folded his arms across his barrel chest, chin jutted out. “What the fuck do you want?”

No wonder this man had such a long arrest record. 

Leo Taylor was a short, stocky man of indeterminate ethnicity, his hair shaved into a buzzcut that did nothing for his face. Multiple crude tattoos lined his arms and fingers, signs of a low level gang member that had changed allegiance on more than one occasion. It was a wonder the man was still alive. 

He straightened his back, darkly amused at the way Taylor flinched slightly. In his work boots, he was nearly a foot taller than the man. There were occasions where his height was nothing but a blessing. 

“I’m here to make sure you make it to the courthouse today, Mr. Taylor,” he said, letting himself sneer. The man in front of him wouldn’t expect politeness from a cop. So he wouldn’t give it. 

“The date is set for tomorrow,” Taylor said, scowling. “I can get myself there.”

“You’re a flight risk,” he told the man with a theatrically condescending smile. “And you’re supposed to be there at 3PM today. Would you like to change into something more suitable?”

He mentally held his breath, but he needn’t have worried. Taylor was a _murderer, thug, bully_ -gang member, but at his core, he was nothing more than a coward. He wasn’t going to argue with an obviously armed cop. The man muttered a swear under his breath. “Don’t fucking touch anything,” he growled, then stalked back down the hallway. 

After a surprisingly short wait, Taylor came back wearing a suit that looked like it was ten years old. It barely fit him. Layla trailed after him, a hopeless set to her shoulders. 

Maybe after today, she would regain a little life.

“It was a pleasure to meet you, Ms. Thompson,” he said as genuinely as he dared in front of Taylor.

She smiled, a forced but still lovely expression. “You too, Officer Smith.”

Ah, she had been observant enough to read his name tag. There was potential for trouble there, but it only made her more interesting. Such a pity he hadn’t met her earlier. 

But then, she had had children earlier. And mothers had always been off limits. 

“Stop flirting with the fucking cop, Layla,” Taylor growled, then turned to him. “We doing this or what?”

He gave the man a mocking nod, then led the way outside. He opened the back door of the squad car, indicating that Taylor should get in.

“I’m can drive myself.”

“Flight risk,” he said with an especially annoying, smug grin. “I’ll have you back safe and sound by the time your rerun of COPS comes on,” he lied with ease. 

Taylor looked like he was about to hit him. Oh, that would be perfect.

He raised an eyebrow, silently daring Taylor to follow through. Attacking an officer in public would give him the perfect opportunity to cuff the man. 

Unfortunately, Taylor was too much of a coward to do anything against someone that could fight back. He got into the back of the car with the ease of a person that had spent a fair amount of time in the back of cop cars. 

“Shouldn’t you have a partner?”

He ignored Taylor, focusing on pulling away from the curb and turning the car towards the ocean. 

It might have been a long, tense ride for Taylor, but he felt nothing beyond a growing sense of anticipation. 

At one point, while stopped at a crosswalk, his eyes tracked the progress of an attractive Asian man crossing the street with a group of friends. It took him a second to realize he was even doing it.

It was fascinating, really, how Ryan had affected him. He was sure there was something interesting in that psychological phenomena. He noticed so many little things about himself that were different now.

He had never thought he would utter the phrase, ‘I actually like the stubble,’ but it had happened just that morning.

Before Ryan, before his life had completely changed, he had never had any real preference beyond ‘female and attractive.’ Women were beautiful, no matter the extraneous details. 

Now he found his attention irrevocably drawn to tan, golden skin, dark hair, and masculine features. To big eyes and brilliant white smiles.

He was sure that if Ryan could hear his thoughts, the man would roll his eyes and tell him he was being racist. 

Maybe one day he would find the words to articulate that it had nothing to do with race and everything to do with _Ryan_.

He thought Ryan would enjoy the sentiment. Even if Ryan never admitted it, he liked when someone said something 'creepy.’

“This isn’t the way to the courthouse.”

Ah. Taylor wasn’t nearly as pleasant as thoughts of Ryan, but he had a job to do. At least this would be an interesting experience. 

“How observant of you.”

They had reached an area that was nothing but old warehouses, half of them abandoned. The tang of salt water was strong enough that he could smell it through the car’s vents. He wasn’t even sure they were still within the bounds of the city of Los Angeles. He parked in front of a corrugated metal building that had been closed since before he had moved to the area. The small door of the side entrance hung open drunkenly, rusted chain broken on the ground. Every surface was covered in graffiti. 

An abandoned warehouse in a sparsely populated area was horribly cliche, he knew. But it was a cliche for a reason. 

He ignored the increasingly loud yelling coming from behind him, secure in the knowledge that Taylor couldn’t break through the partition. He left the engine running, then stepped out of the car. Hopefully anyone driving by would simply think that an officer was responding to a disturbance call. 

After a quick search, he was certain there was no one in the building. The items he had left there were in the same hidden corner, untouched. 

He came outside to see that Taylor was pounding on the windows with one hand, fumbling with a phone in the other. 

He scowled. Fuck. He knew he had forgotten something. 

It was rather satisfying to see the way Taylor went ashen when he drew his gun. He opened the back door of the car, then took a swift step back, gun never wavering from Taylor’s head. 

“Drop the phone and step out of the car.”

“Y-you wouldn’t shoot me, I’m unarmed,” Taylor said, swallowing. Despite the protest, he cautiously raised his hands and stepped out of the car.

No, he wasn’t going to shoot, but that was because he didn’t have the time to search for a shell casing. He slammed the door shut on Taylor’s hand, instead. 

Taylor screamed, dropping the phone in his scramble to cradle his arm close. 

He eyed the hand critically. Good, he hadn’t broken skin. Cleaning blood off the car would be a pain.

“The _fuck_ , man?! What the fuck, you fucking bastard,” Taylor yelled, voice breaking. 

He sighed. Seriously, how had this man survived being in multiple gangs? He reached over and grabbed Taylor by the back of the suit jacket with his free hand. He expected the man to struggle, but Taylor seemed to be too shocked to do much more than stumble forward. 

“Layla is too good for you,” he said absently, thinking out loud more than he was speaking to Taylor.

Taylor made a pained sounding snort. “Is that what this is? White boy wants to get his dick wet?”

He clocked Taylor across the face with the butt of his gun.

He paused. Huh. He needed to work on his impulse control. Then he frowned, because now he was going to have to sanitize his gun. One more thing on the growing list of cleanup chores. 

That was for later. Now he needed to focus on the task at hand. 

Something he had learned years ago was that the movies lied. People didn’t just shake off being hit on the head. Even those with training needed a moment or two to reorient themselves. That meant that now was the perfect time to handcuff Taylor, while the man was still stunned. 

He didn’t bother being gentle with the cuffs. 

It was at this point that Taylor seemed to realize things were far worse than he had already feared. “What the fuck do you want, man?” he asked, struggling against his restraints too late. 

He holstered his gun, then grabbed Taylor by the wrists, forcing him to march forward into the warehouse. He kicked the door closed behind them. 

“Bradley and Lisa Thompson,” he said casually. “Seven and four years old. I take it you remember them?”

Taylor jerked in his hands. “The fucking lawyers got me off, they found me innocent.”

He tsked. “We both know you’re guilty.” He pushed, shoving Taylor to the ground. The man went sprawling against the concrete floor. With his hands behind his back, Taylor was having a hard time even rolling into a position that would allow him to stand up. 

A sharp ringing from the phone in his pocket, the sound barely heard over Taylor’s curses. An alarm. A reminder that he only had a half hour to finish this before Officers Smith and Bryant noticed their car was missing. 

Sitting at the top of his pile of props was a shiny new axe, the price sticker still on it. Even in dry Southern California, no one questioned a new homeowner buying garden supplies. He picked it up, feeling the weight in his hands. He liked the heft of it. 

This was more _messy, vicious_ -violent than he was used to. But life was about change, wasn’t it?

Ryan was good. Pristine. A saint in in this sordid world. 

_His_ hands were already bloody. He could do this for Ryan. He could commit this sin with a smile on his face, happy to be of service. 

The Lover was gone. Dead from a promise that he had no intention of breaking. 

He swung the axe from one hand to the other, getting used to the feel of it.

Perhaps it was time for someone new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ; )


	13. Chapter 13

Two weeks passed without a sign of the Lover.

Three weeks. 

By the fourth week, Ryan was so tensely wound up that he broke into a sweat whenever he got an unexpected phone call or email, dreading the inevitable news that never actually came.

Two months with no more bodies and the Lover fell out of the media's eye. The crowd of reporters outside of the station returned to the previous handful that had always been there, now more interested in newer scandalous crimes. Those few people still following the case started proposing the theory that Jess had been the Lover all along. Ryan kept to his 'no comment’ policy when asked. 

There was some brief excitement when a woman in Burbank was found with a paring knife still in her neck. It turned out to be the work of a jealous lover who had just happened to grab the first sharp thing he found in the kitchen. Ryan had had quite a few scathing things to say about the choice of murder weapon. 

After that, Ryan began to relax despite himself. 

By this point, no one expected anything more to happen. It was maybe short sighted, but in a major city like LA, energy had to go towards more active suspects. The Lover case was still open, technically, but the precinct couldn't afford to have two of their best homicide detectives twiddling their thumbs. So Hayes and Ryan were both given new cases, their attention split.

Bowing under pressure from both the governor and the public, the legal system moved at an unprecedented speed. Jess’ trial for assaulting an officer and kidnapping a woman came and went in a day, her ‘no contest’ plea making the process more of a formality than anything else. But due to a bunch of legal nonsense that Ryan didn’t pretend to entirely understand, her trial for the deaths of Hernandez, Wright, and Cruz was to be entirely separate. There would be another month before she would be forced to face justice for the people she had killed. 

Unfortunately for everyone involved, Shane had to be put on paid leave. Under such public scrutiny, Internal Affairs wasn’t about to let a detective that was a potential suspect keep working on cases. Even if no one actually believed he was the Lover. Other than a few of the more esoteric news outlets and websites, the LAPD’s PR department was doing an amazing job of painting Shane as the unfortunate former lover of an unhinged, obsessive murderer. Everyone was treating his upcoming trial as a joke.

Thanks to the popularity of the TV show Dexter, people were more than willing to believe that a forensics expert like a pathologist, who had the ability to tamper with evidence, could be a serial killer. It was harder to believe that a hard-working detective with glowing reviews from friends and co-workers was going around killing innocent women. 

The forced vacation went well at first. Shane seemed to view the entire thing with good humor, making vague plans to visit all of the amusement parks in the area. He wasn’t allowed to leave the state, but since California was huge, that wasn’t much of a hardship. For Shane’s first week of leave, Ryan only saw him once, an impromptu dinner that ended with both of them falling asleep on the couch. Somehow, the night _not_ ending in sex was weirdly romantic.

It had been during that week of Shane’s absence that Ryan came to the nerve wracking realization that he was in an honest-to-God relationship with the man. An actual hand-holding, ‘I miss you’ texts, ‘I’d like you to meet my boyfriend’ relationship. 

Not that he had actually introduced Shane as such to a single person. The realization that the situation was inevitable was almost panic-inducing. How the hell was he supposed to start that conversation with his family? ‘Hey mom, you know that detective I’ve been working with? The one that a serial killer is accusing of being another serial killer? I’m bringing him over for dinner.’

Even in his own head, he didn’t think that’d go over very well. 

Rather than think about it, he took the cowardly way out and beyond vague references, never once mentioned his family to Shane. It was only fair, though, since Shane did the same. Five months of knowing the guy, and he really only knew the man was from Illinois. He didn’t even know why Shane had moved to LA.

There was one weekend spent with some college friends that been disconcerting. Ryan had ended up being far more quiet than he normally would have, just because every time he opened his mouth, he realized he was about to start with ‘Shane says’ or ‘Shane did this’. It was eye-opening to realize that, even with work and a steadily returning social life, his life had become completely centered around the man. 

After a couple of weeks with nothing to do, Shane started to get _weird_. Well. Weirder. He started showing up at Ryan’s apartment so often that he ended up giving Shane his spare apartment key. Not because it was the next step in their relationship, but because there was something a little pitiful about the number of times he had pulled into the parking lot to see Shane loitering at the front door like a gangly, lost puppy. 

The man became downright twitchy sometimes, falling into extreme manic interest one moment, then a listless laziness the next. Ryan wasn’t sure what to do, other than continue to hang out with him. And sex.

It never got to be overwhelming, though. With uncanny precision, Shane seemed to know just how long he could impose his presence before Ryan started craving space. Every third day, Shane would take off back to his own apartment to go do something or other. 

Shane started going with him to the gym, which was hilarious at first, then hot, then just became a normal part of the weekly routine. The man was too ambivalent about weight lifting to ever truly be buff, but he seemed to enjoy aerobics more than Ryan would have expected. 

The eventual results were...Hmm. _Appreciated._

When he questioned Shane about his sudden interest in getting fit, the man paused, then replied with a grim parody of a smile that he wanted to be prepared for jail. 

Ryan didn’t ask again after that. 

They had their first real fight as a couple after three months of no sign of the Lover, a week before Jess’ second trial. Two weeks before Shane’s. He was as close to drunk as Ryan had ever seen him. They were watching the type of shitty movie that usually prompted hilarious heckling and jokes, but Shane was watching a poorly acted sex scene with tipsy fascination. They were tangled together on the couch, his chin hooked over Ryan’s shoulder, the stubble that had reached the point of being an actual beard digging into Ryan’s skin. 

“I miss boobs,” Shane said suddenly, his voice almost dreamy. 

Ryan snorted. “You’re just going to have to keep missing them, then.”

The arm around his chest tightened, then there was a mouth dropping sloppy, drunken kisses onto his neck. Shane always liked it when Ryan implied that their relationship would continue into the foreseeable future. 

Ryan thought that was the end of the topic. But Shane just _kept_ talking about it, extolling the virtues of breasts in a way that was less sexual than it was an art aficionado describing his love for the medium. By the time he started talking about the noises a woman could make during orgasm, Ryan had had enough. 

He stood up abruptly, leaving Shane clasping at empty air. “Alright, I fucking get it,” he snapped, walking towards the kitchen. “You still think you’re straight, woman are amazing, yay for tits.”

Shane stumbled to his feet, staring after him in a bewildered way. “Wait, what? Why are you angry?”

“Christ, I wonder why? Why would I be angry listening to my _boyfriend_ talk about how great women are?”

Apparently while drunk, Shane wasn’t as good at disguising his more manipulative impulses. The look of confusion turned to an intense, flabbergasted joy, then morphed into pure calculation. 

Ryan held up his hand. “Stop. Whatever it is you’re thinking right now, whatever you think you can say that will get you of this, just stop. I don’t want to hear it.”

“Ryan-”

“No. Leave me alone,” he said. _Commanded_. There was a hard edge to his voice that he rarely used. He knew that if he didn’t get space soon, he would start yelling. And as much as a part of him wanted to get into it, to let loose with every angry, spiteful word that he could, he knew it wouldn't do anyone any good. He needed time to calm down, to figure out why exactly he was so upset. 

Shane slowly shook his head, blinking his eyes a few times to focus. He had the look of someone that knows they’ve fucked up, but isn’t sure how. “This is why I don’t drink very much,” he said, mouth tripping over the words. 

Ryan had to take a deep breath, because no, he was not going to respond to that. They had been angry at each other before, even gotten into an argument a few times, but this was the first time it felt real. There was a faint fear that if he said something now, without thinking about it, he'd say something he'd regret. Ryan continued into the kitchen, going through the motions of getting water, when he heard the sounds of keys jingling and the door opening. He stepped out just in time to see Shane shrugging into his jacket. 

“What are you doing?” 

“You told me to leave you alone. And I’m not sleeping on that couch.” 

Yeah, Ryan wanted space, but he hadn’t meant- “You can’t drive like this.” 

Shane held up his phone. “I called an Uber.” 

Well, apparently that was that. He said nothing as Shane left, the angry feelings draining away until he was just vaguely sick. Fuck, he hadn’t meant to snap like that, but there was still a lingering sense of disbelief over this entire relationship. Neither of them had discussed past relationships, beyond the elephant in the room that was Jess, but Ryan knew from Shane’s offhanded references that he had never had the slightest interest in men before. 

Turning a straight man gay sounded great in porn, but the reality was a mess of emotions that almost weren’t worth it. Sure, sex obviously wasn’t an issue, but for the kind of long-term relationship that Ryan was beginning to realize he wanted? That was something else entirely. Without meaning to, he found himself second guessing his own appearance, his mannerisms. Was he too masculine for Shane? He was self-aware enough to know he was a ‘bro’, but was that something Shane was okay with? 

Most of the time, he could ignore those thoughts. But sometimes, the worry, the mounting pressure to be what Shane wanted, it became enough of an issue that he would lay awake at night, stressed and fretting. 

Ryan had no intention of changing for Shane. But what if he already was? 

The next morning, there was a knock at the door ten minutes after his alarm went off. The exact amount of time he allowed himself to stay in bed. He stumbled to the door, knowing it was Shane without even having to look, because no one else knew his morning routine that well. 

Shane looked like shit. Between the beanie, the same clothes from yesterday, and the unkempt beard, he almost looked homeless. The haggard, hung-over expression and way he kept squinting at the light didn’t help. 

As soon as Ryan opened the door, Shane shoved a cup of Starbucks at him. “I’m sorry.” 

It was too early for this. 

Ryan narrowed his eyes at the man. “Not to be cliche, but do you even know what you’re apologizing for?” 

“Can I come in?” 

He took a silent step back. Shane crowded into him, closing the door behind himself. He ducked his head, trying to bring himself closer to Ryan’s height. “I’m not straight. Not entirely. I came to that realization the week I met you. I never said anything because I thought it was obvious. I mean, I even told you that I was questioning-No.” Shane closed his eyes and sighed. “That’s not what I wanted to say. I was saying that stuff last night because I was drunk. And I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I might never experience being with a woman ever again because I have no intention of leaving you. I wasn’t complaining, I wasn’t trying to convince you of anything, I was...” He frowned, obviously searching for the words. “Mourning sounds wrong. But…” 

Ryan let out a long breath, hating that this weird, half-assed explanation actually made him feel a little better. He rubbed at his forehead with the hand not clutching the still-warm coffee. “I have work in an hour. Couldn’t this have waited?” 

Shane gently placed his hand on Ryan’s upper arm. “I don’t secretly wish you were a woman. You have no idea how perfect you are to me. ” He said it so calmly, as if he was commenting on the weather. This wasn’t a grand statement or gesture to him. It was just a simple, irrefutable fact. 

Shane’s ability to figure out exactly what Ryan was thinking was always going to be creepy. 

“You’re obsessed.” 

A self-mocking smile that somehow made the man unfairly attractive curled Shane’s lips. “What gave it away?” 

Ryan surprised himself when he laughed, a tired, wheezing sound. “The fact that you’re aware of how weird you are should make you even weirder, but somehow it works. You smell terrible, by the way.” 

Shane’s smile turned more genuine, recognizing the forgiveness in the words. “You called me your boyfriend last night.” 

Ah, damn it. He had been hoping that little detail had been missed. Ryan was absolutely not blushing. “Shut up, Shane.” 

“Aren’t you supposed to tell the person when you decide that?” 

_“Shut up, Shane.”_

\------------------------------------- 

Jess was found guilty on all counts of first-degree murder. The trial had been surprisingly fast, only taking a single day. Ryan had to be present for the entirety of the trial, as he was called up to the stand twice, once as a witness, once as one of the detectives working the Lover’s case. 

It had been difficult being in that courtroom. He was in courtrooms more often than he cared to be, often called on to answer questions, but this was the first time he was attending the trial of someone he personally knew. 

Jess seemed to approach the entire thing as a boring task that she just needed to get through in order to go about the rest of her day. It was somehow just as terrible as it would have been if she had spent the entire time sobbing and pleading her innocence. As a medical examiner, she was also no stranger to courtrooms, and she answered questions about her own murders with the same detached calm that she would have had for any other homicide. 

The only time her composure broke was whenever Shane was mentioned. She would smile, a cruel, manic thing. It was clear that she thought he would be incarcerated as well. Ryan wondered if that expression had always been there and he had just missed it, or if she had decided to stop hiding her true feelings. 

Crazy obsessed killer or not, Jess had been his friend for years. It hurt Ryan to watch her be escorted out of the courtroom in handcuffs and leg irons, wearing a bright orange jumpsuit. 

Where Jess’ trial had been short and to the point, Shane’s drug on for nearly two weeks. The Schmidt family had accepted Jess’ sentencing with grace, but they believed their daughter’s accusations wholeheartedly. They blamed Shane for causing her to have a psychotic break, and had hired the best attorneys their money could buy to sue him in a civil case. It turned out that the Schmidt family had a lot of money. 

Silva and Bauer were good, and they had the advantage in the case, but it was clear they were technically outmatched. What should have been just as quick as Jess’ trial became a nightmare of tiny details and legal loopholes. 

The first day of his trial, Shane showed up in his best suit, freshly shaved and with his hair cut. He kept professional throughout, but he did allow his quirky charm to come through on more than one occasion. Ryan was fairly certain half the women in the jury had a crush on Shane by the end of the first day. Doing nothing more than answering questions, he somehow managed to present himself as the hard-working former lover that truly wished only the best for Jess. 

Ryan had deliberately kept his mind away from the night Jess had been apprehended. He didn’t need to be thinking about his certainty that Shane had been about to kill Jess. He had probably blown it out of proportion anyways. There was no way Shane would have done that, right? 

Except that one of the sticking points that the attorneys had been able to focus on was Officer Morrison’s body cam footage. It was clear, despite how shaky and dark the film was, that Shane had been perilously close to shooting a restrained suspect. 

That was when Ryan learned that Shane had shot and killed a suspect his first week of being an officer. 

The knowledge sat heavy on his mind for a long time. 

Shane had saved the life of his partner by killing the suspect, and the incident had actually been in the files Flores had given him about Shane all those months ago, but it still left something unsettled in Ryan. He knew it was his own fault for not reading those files, but he still felt vaguely lied to. The prosecutors had been able to use this previous shooting as a precedent, arguing that Shane already had a history of violence. 

It had taken both Ryan and Morrison’s testimony to convince the judge to move past that particular point. 

Every night after the trial, he meant to bring it up with Shane, but one look at the man's tired face would have him pushing it off until another day. Eventually, the fact that Shane had killed a criminal just became another fact about the man. 

Character witnesses were called to the stand, including some of Shane’s former co-workers from Irvine, a college friend, some of the detectives from Precinct 15. Oh, and a brother _that Ryan hadn’t even known about, what the hell_ , had flown in from Chicago. 

Ryan being introduced to Shane’s brother had left Shane looking more nervous than the entirety of the trial had. He would have teased him about it if they had ever had the time. 

And then came the day Ryan had been dreading. 

As Shane’s alibi for the deaths of Wallace and Kapoor, Ryan would have to go on the stand and swear that Shane had been present in his apartment. It was a single night in a string of alibis that had already been proven, but with the surprising tenacity of the attorneys, it was just as important as the rest of the trial. 

He wore his lucky tie and styled his hair carefully, overly aware that he needed to look as professional as possible. Ryan told himself that this was no different than the countless other times he had been in court, that being nervous was pointless. His hand trembled on the bible as he swore to tell the truth, but his voice didn’t waver. Silva was a comforting presence by this point. 

“Detective Bergara, are you aware of the whereabouts of the defendant the night of the 19th of March?” 

Ryan didn’t allow himself to swallow, though he wanted to. “I am.” 

“Please tell the court.” 

“Madej spent the entire night at my apartment.” 

“Could he have left at any point without you being aware of it?” 

“No, not without me being aware of it.” 

Silva nodded and Ryan relaxed slightly. He kept his fingers crossed that the opposition wouldn’t have any questions for him. 

He wasn’t that lucky. 

“What is your relationship with Detective Madej?” The attorney who asked was a tall, fairly attractive man, with a magnetic personality and slippery way with words. It was obvious why he was skilled as a lawyer. 

“He’s a detective and a friend,” Ryan said as calmly as he could. Silva had coached him on what to say in case the prosecution would try this angle. He had really hoped it wouldn’t be needed. 

“Are you in a sexual relationship with him?” 

“Objection, not relevant to the case,” Silva was quick to say. 

“Sustained.” 

“Bergara might be willing to lie for a lover,” the attorney was just as quick to reply, his statement obviously directed towards the jury, rather than the judge. 

This was risky, but Silva had said he would trust Ryan’s judgement. So, despite the fact that he wasn’t replying to a direct question, Ryan said with as much dignity as he could, “I am an officer of the law, sworn to uphold the law. My personal relationship with Madej has no bearing on that fact.” 

He kept it short and to the point, knowing the judge could silence him at any moment. 

The attorney tilted his head, a surprisingly gentlemanly acknowledgement of the point. “No further questions.” 

Ryan let himself meet Shane’s eyes, warmed by the small smile he received. It hadn’t been as bad as he had feared, since most of his fears had been based off of the type of sensational courtroom dramas one saw on TV, but he knew that news would travel fast. He hadn’t actually said he wasn’t in a sexual relationship with Shane, and by dodging the question, everyone would know the answer was yes. 

He forced himself to ignore that. That wasn’t important right now. What was important was whether or not the jury would believe his moral integrity over his need to protect a lover. 

The next couple of days were torturous. He didn’t even think to protest when Shane followed him home every night. 

Ryan was never sure if his testimony actually helped, but after thirteen days of drawn out deliberation, Shane Madej was found innocent of all charges. In the eyes of the California legal system, he was not the Lover. 

Only because he knew the trial wasn't televised did Ryan allow Shane to pick him up in a hug, his feet dangling for a second. Shane didn’t actually kiss him, despite the fact that he clearly wanted to. But he did bend down to whisper in Ryan’s ear, “I promise you’ll never have to do that again for me.” And then he _winked_ , a smug grin crossing his face. 

Ryan went still, his eyes going wide. A sudden thought occurred to him. Even if new evidence came to light, Shane could never again be tried in a civil for the deaths of Wallace and Kapoor, Churchill, and Nguyen, or any of the others. He _could_ be charged in a criminal case, but the precedent had already been set. He would have to be found and filmed, literally standing over the victim with the knife in their throat, before anyone would risk trying him. 

And Shane, smart, clever, manipulative Shane knew that. He would have realized that taking Jess’ deal was a gamble well worth the risk, because the odds of him being found guilty based off of Jess’ biased evidence were actually very low. 

There would have to be a new victim, with new evidence pointing at Shane, before he could go to trial again. And the Lover had remained silent for three months now. 

They were just outside of the courtroom, surrounded by lawyers, co-workers, and a sea of reporters. And Shane took one look at Ryan’s face and stopped. In the middle of all those people, after just winning a life-changing case, Shane stopped everything he was doing just to comfort him. 

“Ryan, are you alright?” That was honest worry in his voice. His eyebrows were drawn together, his expressive face almost making the emotion comical. 

The sudden fear drained away. Ryan smiled at Shane, shaking his head at the man’s question and at his own thoughts. Because there was no way this goofy sasquatch of a man could be capable of what the Lover had done. 

Ryan was just being paranoid. That was all there was to it. 

\----------------------------- 

  

Just because Shane had been found innocent didn’t mean that he was able to go back to work. 

Internal Affairs was still going over every case that either Shane or Jess had been involved in. A few of Jess’ cases had been reopened, her results thrown out. Shane’s had all been upheld so far, but there were still more to go through and it was a long process. 

The woman from IA who worked the closest with him was a nice, courteous older woman who showed real sympathy over what Shane was going through. That didn’t help Ryan though, since he was the one who had to deal with the brunt of Shane’s boredom. 

Four months since the deaths of Wallace and Kapoor and Ryan no longer had the Lover’s open file on his computer at all times. He was busy with two or three other cases, depending on the week. Most were the kind of easy case that didn’t really need a detective, since a woman standing over her husband with a knife wasn’t exactly a locked room murder, but somebody needed to be in charge of them. 

Not all of them were that easy, unfortunately. 

One thing that Shane had taken to doing after his trial was visiting the precinct’s gun range. Ryan had never gone with him, since he found guns to be nothing more than a necessary tool for his profession. They were to be treated with caution and respect, but they weren’t fun. He only went in order to get in his required practice hours. 

Shane, on the other hand, seemed to take some pride in being competent with firearms. He wasn’t boastful about it, but he handled his gun with an ease that left Ryan to wonder if he had hunted as a kid. 

Today was the kind of day that found Ryan needing a way to relieve stress. And while he had never taken to shooting as an appropriate way to do so, maybe he could try it. Even if it didn’t work, it probably wouldn’t be hard to lure Shane away for some more interesting activities. 

He found Shane at the range’s farthest lane, aiming at a target already filled with dozens of tightly clustered little holes around the head and heart. He watched for a moment, taking in Shane’s easy, relaxed stance as he fired until the clip was empty. There was something meditative in the way he ejected the clip then proceeded to refill it with new ammo. 

Ryan walked up beside him, past a few other officers that were making use of the lanes. He made sure to stay far behind them so that he wouldn’t be hit by stray shells, but enough to the side that Shane would see him in his peripheral vision. Startling someone that was holding a gun was never a good idea. 

Shane glanced at him, then smiled with pleased surprise and pulled his earmuffs off one ear “Hey. Never thought I’d see you here.” 

Ryan raised his voice to be heard over the shooting going on behind them. “I knew you weren't going to be at -” he stumbled over his words, _almost_ saying 'home.’ He hurried on, hoping Shane wouldn't notice that slip. “You wouldn't be at my apartment.” 

Judging by the pleased look, he had noticed. Damn it. 

“Did you miss me that much?” Shane asked, turning back to refilling the ammo clip, his voice filled with gentle mockery. 

“God no, I'm getting sick of your stupid face.” 

That probably would have been more believable if he hadn't said it while leaning against the partition between lanes, his eyes drawn to the quick, competent way those long fingers handled each bullet. “I needed to blow off some steam,” he added. 

“I'm not giving you a blowjob in the middle of a gun range.” 

Ryan made some kind of surprised, amused, squawking sound, trying to react in too many different ways at once. He eventually choked out, “What?” 

Shane didn’t look up from what he was doing, but Ryan could see the corner of his mouth curve into a pleased smirk. “You tell me you need to blow off some steam and then watch my hands like that? What am I supposed to think?” 

Wow, he really needed to get better at controlling his blushing. 

“First off, if I’m looking at your hands, it would be a handjob. Second, you know that’s not what I meant. And -” he paused. His initial, instinctive response had been to respond in the teasing, flirtatious way that had secured him quite a few dates in college. That response had been immediately squashed by the paranoia that years of pretending had created. 

But this was the man he was dating, no one could hear them over the sounds of constant firearms, and damn it, he wanted to. “And third, don’t even pretend you wouldn’t get on your knees for me in public if you thought you could get away with it.” 

Shane didn’t even have the decency to pretend to be embarrassed. He just shrugged, a wicked little gleam in his eyes. “Of course. But even if we were the only ones here, there’s cameras all over the place.” He tilted his head towards the ceiling, indicating one corner. 

Ryan blinked, then craned his head to look above them. Sure enough, there was a security camera for each lane, and even more back towards the building’s lobby. Huh. He hadn’t even noticed. During a case, he knew to be aware of them so that he could go over crime footage, but it just wasn’t something that occurred to him in his everyday life outside of the job. “I’m surprised you noticed them.” 

“I’m always aware of cameras.” 

“Alright, Jason Bourne, you keep doing that.” 

That got Ryan a look like _he_ was the weird one for not looking for cameras constantly like some kind of Hollywood super spy. Shane shook his head, replaced the earmuff over his ear, and lifted the gun. Ryan took a judicious step away from the partition and back behind Shane, fumbling his own earmuffs on. He wasn’t tall enough to look over the man’s shoulders, so he ended up peering around the man like a kid. It was kind of annoying. 

“Name the target.” 

“What, like ‘Jim’?” 

A sigh that didn’t entirely hide Shane’s amusement. “Ryan.” 

“No, don’t name the target ‘Ryan’, what the hell?” 

Shane’s elbows dropped out of his shooting stance and he looked upwards, like he was asking Heaven for patience. 

“Heh. Heart.” 

The word was barely out of his mouth before there were two loud retorts. Two neat little holes appeared in the target’s chest. 

“Center of the head.” 

Two more holes, perfectly centered. Ryan blinked. Sure, he was competent enough that he could technically do the same, but not that fast. Shane didn’t even look like he was aiming. He decided to go for something more difficult. 

“Left, then right shoulder.” 

Fire. Shift. Fire. 

“Right eye.” 

Two holes overlapped so close that they almost looked like one, right through where the target’s right eye would be. 

Alright. That was a little impressive. 

When Ryan didn’t say anything else, Shane thumbed the safety back on and lowered the gun. He turned to Ryan, eyebrows raised, looking downright smug. Well, he supposed he couldn’t exactly blame the man. 

“Are you showing off?” 

“If I was showing off, I would have used a rifle.” 

_That shouldn’t be a hot image. What the hell, self?_

Unaware of Ryan’s internal argument, Shane nodded towards the gun holstered under Ryan’s arm. “Why don’t you take a turn and tell me what has you so upset?” 

The reminder of why he had even come here in the first place made Ryan frown. Seeing Shane, bantering with him, it had made the day’s troubles melt away from his mind. But it suddenly felt like there was a heavy weight over his shoulders, dragging him down. 

He unsnapped his holster, drawing his gun with a pensive frown. He stared at it for a moment, not really seeing what was in front of him. “Shitty day.” 

Shane made an interested noise, stepping away from the waist-high wall that separated the shooter from the lane. Ryan took his place absently, hitting the safety, but keeping his finger off the trigger. “Dipshit said some things. Nothing I haven’t heard before, but it set the tone for the day, I guess.” 

For the most part, Ryan’s life at the station hadn’t changed. The news of Shane’s trial, and the secrets that were subsequently revealed, had traveled quickly, but most people just didn’t give a fuck. There was more scandal to be had in a detective being accused of murder than there was in who that detective was sleeping with. 

That didn’t mean everyone was ambivalent. He scowled, unwillingly remembering the words that had been muttered behind his back as he had been walking out of the break room. His hold on the gun tightened. 

“You’ll have to tell me their name.” 

Ryan blinked, realizing that he was holding the grip too tightly. He relaxed his hand. “I can handle it, Shane.” He reached up and settled into a firing stance, hoping that was a clear enough signal that he was done with the topic. 

A hand fell on his forearm. 

“What the hell is that stance?” 

“Uh, the one for shooting things?” 

Shane stepped into his view, pushing his arm down slightly and kicking gently at his forward foot. “Square up a little. The way you are now, you’re exposing your left armpit, even in body armor. If you go up against a skilled enemy, they could hit your heart.” 

“What are you, my Academy instructor?” 

There was a soft, derisive laugh. “I’m probably better.” Long fingers lightly pressed at his hip, tilting him in a different way. 

Ryan’s heartbeat sped up. He scoffed, trying to hide his body’s sudden interest. “Are you trying to Patrick Swayze me?” 

Shane let out a quiet snicker. “Why am I not surprised you like Ghost?” 

“Hey, I didn’t say I liked it. But we’re one ‘Unchained Melody’ away from reenacting that stupid scene. With guns.” 

“I’d watch that movie.” 

“Of course you would,” Ryan said, unable to hide his smile. “Hands off before I end up elbowing you.” 

He could feel Shane step back. He let out a deep breath, aimed, then squeezed his finger around the trigger. The recoil of the gun was always a shock, but he held himself against it, trying to ignore the man behind him. He just knew Shane would have something to say if he couldn’t handle a little kickback. 

When the clip was empty, he ejected it, then set it on the little barrier in front of him. 

“Not bad. Not great, but it’s alright.” 

“Shut up, Shane,” he said, rolling his eyes. So maybe his shots weren’t as tightly clustered as Shane’s, but they still hit the areas he’d been aiming at. Mostly. 

“So what else has you so upset?” 

Ryan went still. Fuck, Shane was getting too good at reading him. He quietly accepted the new clip that Shane handed him, but just held it for a moment. “I probably shouldn’t tell you. Since you’re technically on leave.” 

“Ah. A new case?” 

Ryan shook his head. “Old one. It was closed today.” 

“Didn’t find the guy?” 

“No, it-” Ryan closed his eyes. He couldn’t get their damn faces out of his head. His voice went quiet. Strained. “Two months ago, dispatch got a call from a woman saying her boyfriend had murdered their children. When the officer first on scene got there, there was some confusion. Two different stories, you know? Near as I can tell, the father was supposed to be giving the daughter a bath while the mother was at work, but left her in there to go get drunk. She drowned. She was only three.” His voice cracked, but the words kept coming, pouring out of him without conscious effort. He hadn’t had anyone to talk to about this, and it had been building for days. 

“The son found her, woke his father to get help, but he didn't like that. Hit his son so hard that it cracked his skull. Mother came home an hour later, too late to save him.” 

The lightest pressure of fingers on his back, enough for him to feel their presence. At this angle, no one else in the range would be able to see what Shane was doing, so he accepted the small comfort. 

“But you got him, right?” 

Intense, bitter anger surged, and the only reason he didn’t hit the partition next to him was because of the gun and clip in his hands. As it was, he was holding on to both so tightly that his knuckles were going white. “Fucker somehow got the money to hire fancy fucking lawyers that were able to get half the evidence thrown out due to mishandling. And then they said the mother was probably high and lying, because she had a drug history. But I looked at her records, she’d gone to rehab eight years ago when she became pregnant with her son, so she was clean, and-” He bit off his words, trying to control his harsh breathing. 

Shane reached over, pulling everything out of his hands. He slipped the clip into the gun, then handed it back to Ryan. “You can say it, Ryan. Say whatever you want to,” Shane said, voice low and soothing, a caress on his name. 

“The fucking bastard walked free,” Ryan whispered, barely heard over the sounds around them. “And I know, I know that happens all the time. I could have handled that, I’ve seen it happen. But the fucker didn’t show any remorse at all. I was there, Shane. I was at the courthouse. He walked out fucking _whistling_.” 

“What was his name?” 

Ryan didn’t hear the question, seething anger making him blind and deaf to everything. “He said that it didn’t matter because the bitch couldn’t keep her legs shut, so there’d be more brats soon enough,” he hissed the words, knowing that if he didn’t force himself to stay quiet, he’d start yelling. 

Shane tugging the earmuffs off his head and onto his neck brought Ryan back to the present but the rage still roiled, just under the surface. “What was his name?” Shane breathed, something hypnotic in the soft sibilants that breezed across his ear. 

“Leo Taylor,” Ryan said through a clenched jaw and gritted teeth. Even saying the name made him feel dirty. 

A quiet little hum. “Not Leonard?” 

Ryan shook his head. Automatically, not thinking about his actions, he thumbed the safety off the gun, raised it, then took two swift shots.The target was a mass of torn paper, with so many tattered holes that it was barely holding together, but he knew he had hit the heart. 

Before he could fire again, Shane leaned in, not quite touching, but a warmth present along his back. “What do you want to happen?” 

Saying nothing, Ryan sat the gun down with a click. 

Shane’s voice turned cajoling, a barely-heard murmur. “You said you wanted to relieve stress? Well, say it out loud. You’ll feel better. You know I won’t judge you.” 

“Why does he get to be alive when those children are dead?” Ryan asked, the words tumbling free. His voice shook, sounding like he was about to cry, but there were no tears. Nothing but the strength of his anger. “It's not _fair_. They were just _kids_. His _own kids_. Fuck. I wish he could get what he deserves.” 

“What does he deserve?” 

Right in the middle of the Thompson file had been a photograph of a family vacation to the beach. In the picture had been Layla Thompson, a beautiful young woman with a bright smile. At her side had been Bradley, a gap-toothed grin stretched across his face. And in her arms had been Lisa, an infant at the time, a tiny little bundle of big eyes and fuzzy hair. 

Ryan didn’t think he would ever forget that picture. 

“I want-” 

“What do you want?” 

“I want him to be fucking _dead_.” 

Ryan picked up the gun one-handed, pointed it at the target and fired once. A hole appeared, directly in between the eyes. The kickback wrenched his wrist, the pain distant. 

His whole body went still. 

He stood there, frozen, arm outstretched. He felt nothing. No more anger or rage, no more frustrated grief over children he had never met. It had all vanished. There was just a vast emptiness. 

It was peaceful. 

Shane stepped up beside him, then gently took his gun, placing it on the wall in front of him. Ryan lowered his arm, mind still blank. 

“You need a distraction,” Shane said, voice still low. “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” 

Ryan wasn’t sure how much time passed. The echoing sound of the firearms going off around him was far more calming than he had ever found it before. It seemed like a good representation of what was going on in his head. 

The pretentiousness of that half-assembled thought made him smirk to himself, and just like that, he relaxed. By the time Shane came back, he was almost back to normal. He felt some faint embarrassment that he had become so emotional, but Shane had been right. That had been oddly cathartic. He felt like he’d actually be able to move on now. 

He raised an eyebrow when he saw what Shane was carrying. It was a .308 Winchester rifle, with a scope that looked more futuristic than some drones. The entire thing was a sleek matte black that made it look deadly. Ryan forced his voice level, trying to sound normal. “Isn’t that a SWAT weapon? How did they let you check that out?” 

“I have the certification,” Shane said with a shrug, like that wasn’t something that required _forty hours of training_. “Come on, we have to go to a different lane.” 

Ryan holstered his gun, then trailed after the man, a little confused. They went back into the lobby, then through a door that Ryan had never noticed before. Inside was a long lane that looked like it went the length of the entire building. 

“This is more to test the guns than to actually practice, since you can’t get more than 25 yards here, but you get the idea, “ Shane said absently, tweaking things on the scope with the kind of assurance that only came from knowing exactly what he was doing. 

Ryan could only stare. 

Shane nodded towards the far end of the lane, at a target that looked stupidly small. “Call it.” 

“Heart.” 

“At least give me something difficult,” Shane said, but he brought the rifle up, the stock nestled securely against his shoulder. 

A shot rang out. 

“I can’t even see if you hit it.” 

Shane snorted. “New target.” 

“Right eye.” 

A tiny shift, a deep breath. Shane looked like something out of a movie; a long, lean figure, holding a sniper rifle with clear competence. He fired, taking the shock of the recoil without a flinch, then he smiled, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Here,” he said, handing the rifle to Ryan. “Look through the scope.” 

A little hesitant, Ryan took the gun and brought it up to his shoulder. He technically knew how to use one, but it had never been a focus in his training. He squinted through the scope, taking a second to find what he was looking for. 

There were two neat holes in the target, one in the eye and one in the heart. 

Ryan lowered the gun, then said with clear reluctance, “I know you’re just using this 'distraction' to show off, but I’m a little turned on right now.” 

“Mmm, if only there weren’t cameras.” 

Ryan snorted. “Seriously, shouldn’t you be on a SWAT team?” 

Shane took the rifle back and shrugged. “Being a sniper is actually pretty boring. And they’re fun, but guns aren’t my preferred method of dealing with things.” 

Shaking his head, Ryan clapped him on the shoulder. Since there was no one in the room with them, he let himself keep his hand there. “You’re so fucking weird. I hate to admit it, but uh, I actually do feel better now. So, thanks, I guess.” 

Shane turned towards him, a strangely excited expression giving him a manic air. “I should be thanking you.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing,” Shane said with a pleased smile. “Just glad you came to me with your problems.” 

“You’re my problem,” Ryan muttered. Apparently that warranted a kiss, cameras or no. One big hand cradled the back of his skull, making Ryan melt into the feeling of being comforted. 

Shane smelled like gunpowder.  
\---------------------------------------- 

In a decision that had seemed like a good idea at the time, Ryan had skipped lunch so that he could get home an hour earlier. It wasn't something they were really supposed to do, but he had some great news to share with Shane. 

Three days after Ryan’s visit to the gun range, Shane had offhandedly mentioned that the end of his apartment lease was coming up in a couple of days and oh, by the way, could he move in with Ryan? It was so theatrically manipulative that Ryan had rolled his eyes and agreed without stopping to think. 

He had maybe panicked a day later, since this was a huge step in their relationship and he hadn't lived with anyone in years. This was bound to bite him on the ass, somehow. 

So far, though, it had been fine. If not more than fine. It had been surprisingly easy, actually. There was something about having someone to come home to that made Ryan’s chest ache in a good way. 

And the more time they spent together, the more Ryan had begun to pick up on the little things that made up Shane. He learned that Shane snored if he slept flat on his back, but it happened rarely because he usually slept on his side. He learned that Shane would bitch about wet towels thrown on the bathroom floor, but had no problem with leaving dirty, food-encrusted dishes in the sink for days. That Shane didn’t actually drink coffee for the caffeine, but would make some for himself every morning, just to drink with Ryan. 

Tiny things. Most of them annoying. But they were little quirks that Ryan would have never known if they hadn’t started dating, hadn’t started living together, and Ryan found himself treasuring the little details. 

Ryan unlocked his door, pulling out his phone even as he stepped inside. “I'm fucking starving,” he said, raising his voice so that it echoed down the hallway. He could see that Shane wasn't in the living room or the kitchen, so he wandered towards the bedroom, most of his attention on his phone as he tried to decide what to order. 

There was the faint noises of rustling and something being sat down. “Uh, wait, Ryan-” 

“I was thinking a pizza,” Ryan said as he stepped past the doorway. He looked up, started to say something, then froze, wide-eyed. _Wow._

“Ah...You’re home early,” Shane said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

There were a lot of things Ryan wanted to say, all of them crowding behind his teeth, but what popped out was, “Holy shit, do those boots make you like 6’6 or something?” 

Shane looked down at his feet, going from flustered to a little concerned. “I don’t think so? Is it that noticeable?” 

Ryan took a minute just to stare, torn between amusement and interest. Shane was wearing what must have been his old LAPD uniform, down to the black tie and duty belt. The entire ensemble made him look even more slim than usual, but it stretched tight across his shoulders, highlighting how broad they were. It wasn’t a bad look. 

It had taken approximately one day at the Academy for Ryan to stop being attracted to men in uniform. It was really just black slacks and a black button-up, and he saw it so often that the novelty had worn off quickly. 

On Shane, though? Well. Maybe some teenage fantasies were coming back to life. 

Shane shifted, his look of embarrassment increasing. If Ryan hadn’t been so floored, he would have enjoyed that. He could count on one hand the number of times he had seen the man embarrassed. “I uh, was going through my moving boxes, and found this. Wondered if it still fit,” Shane said into the silence. 

What Ryan _wanted_ to say was something teasing, since God knew that if the situation had been reversed, Shane would have never let him live it down. What he actually said was, “It fits. It really really fits.” 

Shane blinked, then his shoulders relaxed from their hunched up position. That embarrassment disappeared completely and he hooked his thumbs through his belt, cocking his head with a flirtatious smile. “Is this where I tell you that if you’re good, I won’t have to cuff you?” 

Ryan snickered, putting his phone down and moving closer. “Oh no, officer, I’ll do anything to not get arrested, “ he said, trying to maintain a straight face, but his mouth kept trying to twitch into a smile. 

“Anything?” 

After the past few months, Ryan was _intimately_ familiar with the height difference between the two of them. From this close, between the fact that he had taken his own shoes off at the door, and Shane was wearing boots, the difference had grown to something stupid. He craned his head back. “I thought you being taller would be hot, but this is just ridiculous.” 

Shane looked a little disappointed that Ryan had abandoned the joking flirtation, but he went with the topic change easily. “I’m sorry, what? I couldn’t hear you down there.” 

“Dick,” Ryan said, lightly punching him in the ribs. He tilted his head to the side, eyes narrowing. There was a little streak of brown just under Shane’s chin. It was only something Ryan noticed because of his angle. “You must have cut yourself shaving,” he said, reaching up to brush the dried blood away. 

A large hand caught his wrist before he could touch skin. “What the hell, Ryan? You see a cut and you go right for it?,” Shane asked, sounding faintly nervous. 

Ryan gave him an exasperated look. “I wasn’t going to start jabbing at it, you big baby. I just wanted to see how bad it was.” 

Shane smiled, though the expression didn’t match his eyes. “You don’t know where I’ve been, I could have anything.” 

Lightly tugged his hand away, Ryan rolled his eyes. “At this point, you’ve already given me everything you have.” 

“I could give it to you again, though,” Shane said with an exaggerated wiggle of his eyebrows, all trace of that serious look gone. 

“Oh my God,” Ryan replied, hitting his forehead against Shane’s collarbone, making a laughing noise that was almost a giggle. “That was terrible.” 

“What do you say? Fuck the police?” 

Ryan burst into helpless laughter, muffling the sound against Shane. “You didn’t just use that line.” 

“Is that a yes or a no?” 

“That’s a no, you fucking dork,” Ryan said, pulling back. He reached up to rest his hands on Shane’s sides. The fabric of the uniform shirt was surprisingly soft. To be honest, if his stomach hadn’t felt like it was trying to eat his spine, he probably would have skipped food for something fun. “We’re going to get a pizza because we’re celebrating.” 

“Oh? What are we celebrating.” 

“You’d know if you had ever bothered to answer your phone. Flores has been trying to call you all day.” 

Shane stiffened, looking alarmed. “Flores?” 

“Well, Flores’ secretary,” Ryan said. He smiled up at Shane, suddenly excited. “You, Detective Madej, get to come back to work on Monday.” 

That got him a cautious smile. “Wait, really?” 

“Yup. Internal is done going through all of your cases. You’re gonna have to actually work for a living now.” 

Hands cupped Ryan’s jaw, tilting his head just right for a long kiss. “Thank God,” Shane muttered against his lips. “I was so bored.” 

Ryan snorted. “Trust me, I know.” He brushed another quick kiss against the corner of Shane’s mouth, then took a step back. “Take this stupid thing off or you’re going to scare the delivery man.” 

“You could help me take it off.” 

Shaking his head, Ryan stepped back and turned towards the living room, picking up his phone on the way. Just as he was passing through the doorway, he called over his shoulder, “Oh, and keep the handcuffs next to the bed.” 

It was a little gratifying to hear the faint swear as Shane tripped against the dresser. 

  

\----------------------------------  
Shane’s first day back to work started off a little awkwardly. 

Just because he had been found innocent by the jury didn’t mean that people had stopped wondering about him. While Ryan didn’t think that anyone actually thought Shane was the Lover, he did know there had been a betting pool going on whether or not he’d be found guilty. 

Innocent or not, Shane now had a reputation. And bad reputations could be deadly to a detective trying to further their career. No one wanted his bad luck to rub off on them. 

Everyone was too professional for the room to fall into a hush when the two of them walked into a room, but there was a noticeable lull in conversations. Many people turned to stare at Shane, some more subtle than others. 

Rubin and Hayes both made it a point to obnoxiously and loudly greet the two of them, and Yang had given them an absent nod as if he wasn’t aware of the tension in the room. Everyone else kept their distance, eyeing Shane whenever they had to walk past him. 

One young officer, who was there to deliver paperwork, actually flinched when Shane sat up. 

Ryan was glaring at everyone, trying to think of anything that he could do that would actually help the situation, when Shane let out a long, loud, dramatic sigh. He leaned back in his seat, his ‘new’ desk and chair so old that the motion made it give an irritating squeak. 

“Man, I would kill for a cup of coffee right about now.” 

The room went still. 

Then Hayes let out a loud guffaw, and Habersberger, who had been walking past, actually snorted to himself. Suddenly everyone was laughing, the tension in the room ebbing away. 

Shane sent Ryan a smug look, who only rolled his eyes. He should have known Shane would find a way to make everyone like him again. 

To congratulate both Shane for his return to work and Hayes for his transfer to the precinct, the three of them plus Rubin had decided to all go out together for lunch. It had been a fun hour, with so many jokes and casually flung insults that Ryan had almost forgotten two of the people he was with were just co-workers. 

It felt nice, after the entire debacle with Jess, to think that maybe he did have friends at work. 

“No, but seriously,” Rubin said, grin contagious. “Bergara is obsessed with serial killers.” 

Shane sat down his bottle of water, a faint teasing smirk curling his lips. “Is that so?” 

“Yeah,” Rubin nodded, still smiling. “Surprised you didn’t know that, since you two pretty much live in each other’s pockets. Name a city and Bergara can tell you a serial killer. It’s like the worst drunk party trick.” 

Ryan buried his face in one hand, groaning. “This is why I don’t hang out with you after work.” 

Hayes sat down his own drink and leaned forward. “Seattle.” 

With a short sigh, Ryan gave in to the inevitable. “That’s easy. Gary Ridgway, the Green River Killer.” 

“Boston,” Rubin said all too cheerfully. 

“Boston Strangler, the Giggler, and possibly a current one who doesn't have a stupid name yet.” 

Hayes shook his head. “Alright, something harder. Houston. 

“Dean Corll in the 70s, more recently the Tourniquet Killer. 

With a glance at Shane, Rubin said, “Chicago.” 

Ryan scoffed. “John Wayne Gacy Jr. obviously. The more interesting one is H.H. Holmes, from the 19th century.” 

“What makes him interesting?” Hayes asked. 

“Oh no, don’t ask him that,” Rubin was quick to interrupt him. “We’ll be here forever and we do actually need to get back to work eventually.” 

Shane abruptly sat forward, his eyes dark in the cafe’s lights. “New Orleans.” 

Ryan couldn’t help the way he perked up. “Oh, the Axeman of New Orleans. Now that’s an interesting case, since -” 

“Nope,” Rubin said, waving her hand. “We’re not starting that.” 

“Why do you know so much about serial killers?” Hayes asked. He seemed more amused than anything, but there was a reason why Ryan had always been known around the station as a little weird. He wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to scare away someone that might someday be a real friend. 

“They’re uh, fascinating, I guess?” he said slowly, looking down at the table. Shane shifted next to him, his knee bumping into Ryan’s. “Why do you think I wanted to become a detective?” 

“Well, I don’t know if ‘fascinating’ is the right word, but everyone needs a hobby,” Hayes said. 

Ryan wasn’t listening to the man, too busy watching the way Shane’s expression had gone an interesting mix of soft and smug. It-it _flustered_ him when Shane so obviously thought he was being cute. 

On the way out of the cafe, Shane had brushed their fingers together, not quite holding hands, but the intent was there all the same. Ryan liked the idea that Shane wasn’t turned off by his interests. Even if the man mocked him for half of them. 

The four of them were walked back into the station together, still joking around, when Mary the secretary waved to get Ryan’s attention. 

“You’ve got a package on your desk, Bergara. I’ll let it slide for now, but you know you’re really not supposed to have non-work related things delivered here.” 

Ryan paused, exchanging a glance with Shane. “I didn’t order anything, though.” 

The secretary just shrugged, like she had heard that excuse before. “Just make sure you don’t do it again.” 

“But-” 

She pointedly picked up a phone, turning away from him. 

Bemused, Ryan followed after Shane and Hayes, trying to think if there was something from another department he was supposed to be receiving. He had three active cases, but he hadn’t needed to liaise with anyone in some time. 

Had he forgotten something? He was going to have to check his emails. 

Shane looked over his shoulder at Ryan, raising an eyebrow as he unscrewed the cap off the water bottle he had brought with him from lunch. Ryan shrugged, silently telling the man not to worry about him, and hurried forward. 

Hayes walked past Ryan’s desk, noticing the fairly large package. “What’s in the box, Bergara? What’s in the box?” he asked obnoxiously, drawing out the last word in a whine. 

Shane made a strangled coughing noise, spluttering water over himself. They all turned to stare at him. He waved away their looks, managing to choke out, “Swallowed wrong.” 

Ryan shook his head at him, then glared at Hayes. “Don’t even joke about that, Hayes. That movie gave me fucking nightmares.” He approached his desk, eyeing the package. The precinct address and Ryan’s name were on it, and it was stamped as First Class Priority mail, but there was no return address. 

“Alright, I know you were just joking, but now I’m freaked out,” Ryan announced. “It doesn’t have a return address.” 

Hayes started to say something, probably an insult, but he caught the look on Ryan’s face and sobered quickly. “Like a bomb or something?” 

“I...No. I’m sure I’m just being paranoid.” 

Ryan started to reach towards the box, but Shane was suddenly right there, offering him a box of latex gloves. He blinked at the gloves, then raised his eyebrow at Shane. 

The man shrugged. “You’ve got good instincts, Ryan. Just in case, alright?” 

Ryan slipped on a pair of gloves, feeling silly the entire time. It was probably just something he had forgotten he had ordered. Or even a fucking gift, but it wasn’t going to be anything sinister. He picked up a letter opener off his desk, then carefully sliced open the tape, just in case. 

He gingerly opened the top of the box, lifting the cardboard flaps back. At first all he could see was tissue paper, a bright white and red. Ryan relaxed a little. Maybe this was just a prank? He started to move the paper, then- 

_Is that hair?_

Ryan’s stomach flipped, a running litany of ‘no, no no,’ going through his head. Feeling like he was watching a horror movie, he watched his own hand reach out to remove the tissue paper. 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Hayes swore behind him, startling him. 

Sitting in the box was a head. A human head. 

At first, he tried to convince himself that it wasn't real. That it was a horrible prank from someone with a shitty sense of humor. Then the unmistakable, faintly sweet, smell of rot rose from the box. 

Against his will, not entirely sure why he was doing it, Ryan’s gaze rose to meet Shane’s. An indefinable relief swept through him when the only thing he saw in those dark eyes was disgust. 

Heart pounding hard enough that he could feel it beating in his chest, and still feeling like his hand wasn’t entirely attached to his body, Ryan reached into the box. He ignored both Shane and Hayes as they told him to stop. The hair was too short for him to get a grip, so he had to grab the head with both hands, fingers hooked under the jaw. It took more effort to lift than he was expecting. 

Apparently heads were heavier than they looked. 

Even though the nose was broken and the face was discolored from the onset of decomposition, he knew exactly who it was. 

“Leo Taylor.” 

It took him a moment to realize he’d said it outloud. 

“What?” 

“Wasn’t a face I was ever going to forget,” he said through numb lips. “Somebody killed Taylor. And sent me his head.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh you lovely people! I may have been a _tiny_ bit amused by everyone's reactions to the last chapter. 
> 
> Hopefully the court stuff in the beginning isn't too hand-wavy. Thank you so much for your kudos and delicious comments!
> 
> ((Haha, did a few quick edits at the beginning when it was pointed out that I know nothing of law! Hopefully its _slightly_ more realistic now. There's a fine line between artistic license and straight up being wrong. Sorry! Apologies to anyone that read it before the edits! Thank you to the commenter that let me know.))


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the chapter is really long. Plan food breaks.

Like a switch had been thrown, Ryan suddenly realized that he was _holding a human head_. 

With a little cry of disgust, he sat Taylor’s head back down in the box, only a last minute vestige of professional pride keeping him from flinging the damn thing away from himself. He pulled the gloves off and threw them into the box, abruptly thankful to Shane for always keeping a box of gloves at his desk. He wasn’t going to mock the man for that habit ever again. 

He caught a whiff of that putrid smell and he was done. 

Ryan ended up throwing up in the break room sink because it was closer than the bathroom. 

He had seen some pretty gruesome things during his time as a detective for Homicide, and dismembered body parts were unfortunately par for the course. But he had never _held_ one before. He could still feel the weight of it, the way the jaw had shifted slightly with his movements. 

He gagged, then rasped to himself, “Why the fuck did I do that?”

“Because you’re an idiot?”

The voice behind him startled him, and he scowled over his shoulder at Shane. “Not now, Shane.” He forced himself to straighten, not watching the stuff he had puked up go down the drain as he turned on the faucet. “Did you notify Forensics?”

“They’re on their way. Hayes is going to get the security footage and track down the mail carrier angle.”

Ryan splashed water onto his face, wiping at his mouth, then began washing his hands after getting a copious amount of soap. “That-yeah, that’s a good idea. I’m sure it was just a regular post officer worker, since the post mark looked real, but yeah, that’s...good.”

He rinsed his hands, then reached for more soap, rubbing the cheap liquid between his fingers over and over again.

“Ryan-”

“We should find out who Taylor’s enemies are,” Ryan said slowly, trying to ignore the image of the man’s broken, discolored face. He needed to get a plan into place. “I think his file might still be on my computer, but I didn’t bother paying attention to his priors, since they didn’t have anything to do with Th-Thompson.” 

He frowned to himself. _Get it together, get it together_. Absently, he rinsed his hands again, and started to push the little lever for more soap. 

Shane’s large hands wrapped around his wrists, stopping Ryan’s movements. “Ryan,” he said, ducking his head so that he could look straight into Ryan’s eyes. “You’re clean. You didn’t touch anything.”

Ryan blinked, then glanced down at his hands. They were red from how hard he had been scrubbing. “Oh.”

“Let’s not reenact Lady Macbeth over here, okay?

That made Ryan scrunch his eyebrows together, confusion making him fall out of his absent-minded state. “What?”

“‘Out damn spot?’ No? Alright, nevermind,” Shane said, shaking his head. He squeezed Ryan’s wrists once, gently, then let go. “Let’s go back to the he-your desk. And focus on what we need to figure out.”

Ryan nodded, following Shane out of the break room. He flexed his fingers a few times, before putting them in his pockets. 

It said something about his chosen profession that after a half hour of excitement, everyone around Ryan just went back to their jobs. Other than a few offhanded comments, some more pointed than others about Ryan getting all of the attention from murderers, everyone was too busy with their own cases to gawk for long. 

Plus, while it wasn’t particularly common, a member of the LAPD receiving some kind of horrifying threat wasn’t unheard of. Although such threats usually weren’t delivered via the Post Office. 

Forensics hadn’t even paused when they were told to come to the station building. Once they were done, and Ryan could use his desk again, the new resident medical examiner had almost gleefully taken the head down to the morgue labs. 

Ryan's desk was now cleaner than it had ever been, wiped down thoroughly by the team that had come through to test the box.The cleanliness was more unsettling than it had any right to be. He spent far too long trying to put his few office supplies and files back into the right place, focusing with a single-minded determination that probably looked crazed. 

He didn’t want to think. 

‘ _What was his name_?’

Ryan shook his head, ignoring the half-remembered voice.

Shane tried to speak to him more than once. Even Hayes tried to goad him into a friendly fight, but he answered with short one-word answers that didn't welcome conversation. 

_I don’t want to remember_.

It didn’t take long for the new pathologist, Dr. Kornfield, to send notice that he was done with his examination. Having just a head to study meant that there actually hadn’t been much for him to do. 

Ryan went into the morgue with Hayes, forcing himself to pay attention to his surroundings. Shane followed behind them, even though he now had his own cases to work on. No one bothered to try and stop him. 

Kornfield was probably a more typical version of the kind of person that would want to become a pathologist, but it was jarring to see the polite, overly enthusiastic man in place of Jess. Ryan had avoided the morgue as often as he could ever since the trials, still expecting to see her hunched over her desk, frowning at her computer. He was sure he came across as rude to the new examiner, but it was hard to bring himself to act normally around the man that had replaced his friend. 

His _murdering, stalker, unhinged_ friend.

No, no, he wasn’t going to think about the people in his life that were...weird. 

“I’ll tell you what I can, Detectives, but there’s just not much there,” Kornfield said as they walked in, gesturing at the head that was placed in a shallow metal tray. “I’ve never worked with just a head before.”

Ryan carefully kept his eyes away, forcing a polite smile. “That’s fine, Dr. Kornfield. Please, tell us what you’ve found out.”

Kornfield waved a hand. “Please, just Zach, so I don’t feel old. I can tell you that his head was removed approximately three days ago, but I’m not sure if that was the cause of death. Without the rest of the body, I just have to guess. Um, let’s see.” The man put his hands on his hips, then seemed to remember something and ran to grab gloves. 

There was a warm presence just behind his shoulder, and Ryan knew without looking that it was Shane. He wanted to lean back. He wanted desperately to find some sort of comfort in the man, but he was afraid that if he tried, he’d freak out in the worst way at the worst time. 

The last time Shane had thought Ryan was afraid of him was memorable. And not really in a good way. Ryan had no wish to relive that. 

“Alright!” Kornfield exclaimed. He picked up Taylor’s head like it was just a bowling bowl, twisting it until they could see the ragged bits of skin and flesh that still surrounded the severed spine. Ryan flinched, Shane made some kind of disgusted noise, and even Hayes, who had the most experience of all of them there, pulled a face. “So, no prints or hair that I could find, but I have determined that the murder weapon was probably an axe or something similar. You see how jagged the tear is here? Axes are pretty sharp, but it takes knowledge of how to use one and a lot of power behind the blow to get a good clean slice.”

Apparently not noticing his audience’s reactions, Kornfield tapped the exposed bone. “You can see from this chip here that our suspect had to take a couple of whacks to get all the way through the spine. Bones are tricky! They’re a lot harder than people expect.”

Shane shifted next to him. Ryan ignored the movement. “So you think this was someone that’s new?”

“New to using an axe, at least,” Kornfield said, shrugging. He flipped the head upright, placing it back down on the tray. He pointed at the nose. “Here’s the interesting bit, though. The broken nose was before Taylor was killed. He was definitely roughed up before they took the swing.” He mimed swinging something through the air with his wrists. 

“Could make this personal,” Hayes said, taking notes in his little book. “We’ll definitely want to look into anyone that might have been his enemy.”

“I’d like to say that killing his children made him a lot of enemies, but I feel like his girlfriend was the only one who would have been personally invested enough to kill him over it,” Ryan said, trying to remember what he could of the case that had closed weeks ago. 

“We’ll definitely have to pay her a visit tomorrow.”

“Looks like gangland style execution to me,” Shane spoke up, right on the edge of Hayes sentence. 

Everyone glanced at him with some confusion. 

“What?” he asked. “Ryan, your files said he was known associates with some crews. If he pissed off the wrong people, this could have been their response.”

“That doesn’t explain why they _priority shipped his head to my desk_.”

Shane frowned, mouth a thin line. “True. That does complicate matters.” He sighed, a disappointed sound. 

Ryan did _not_ analyze why he sounded disappointed. 

“I can’t think of any local gangs that use axes, but that’s not my speciality,” Hayes said with a shrug.”

“Really?” Shane looked honestly surprised. “Nothing creative?” He put on cheesy old-timey gangster accent. “Ya got some real moxie messin’ with the boss, but that don’t fly ‘round here.”

Sometimes, Ryan really hated that Shane could make him laugh over the stupidest things. 

“I don’t think the guy was running a rival speakeasy against the local don, Shane,” Ryan said, forgetting his worries for one glorious moment. 

Shane made an ‘aha!’ face, comically snapping his fingers. “Right, wrong state.”

“And century.”

That got him a nod, like Shane was conceding some grand point. “And century.”

They grinned at each other for a second, and everything felt right. This was Ryan’s boyfriend, however childish the label sounded while at work, and while standing next to a severed head. There were so many reasons why he was comfortable with the man.

It physically pained him to remember why he had been feeling so damned skittish. 

Kornfield broke the moment, looking between the two of them with a uncertain smile. “Oh...kay.”

Hayes snorted. “You get used to it. Let me or Bergara know if you find anything else, Dr. Kornfield.”

“Will do. And call me Zach!”

Ryan spent the rest of the day trying to track down postal workers and gaining access to the station’s own security cameras, taking over those tasks from Hayes. Surprisingly, he had a harder time getting permission to look at the cameras than he did IDing the mailman. 

By the time he walked out of the building, it was already well past the end of his usual working hours. Even Shane, who had a tendency to wait around for Ryan, had left for their apartment. A text let him know that there would be dinner waiting for him. 

It was the little things that made Ryan’s suspicions so hard. 

He drove home, walked into his apartment and proceeded to go through his after-work routine on autopilot. He was sitting on the bed, having just put on sweats and a tank top, when he realized that Shane was standing next to his dresser. 

There were a handful of framed pictures sitting in front of a dusty Our Lady of Guadalupe candle on the far corner of the surface. They were all gifts from friends and family, since Ryan wasn’t the type to go out of his way to get something framed. Shane had never mentioned them before, but he would occasionally stare at them, probably trying to guess how each person was connected to Ryan. 

Ryan had never volunteered the information. 

“I wouldn’t have taken you for Catholic,” Shane said softly, lightly brushing the top of the candle. He said it hesitantly, as if he knew something was bothering Ryan and wasn’t sure how to ask what was wrong. 

Since Shane seemed to be able to read him easily, the man must have guessed that it was more than just Taylor’s head that was making him upset. 

“Why?” Ryan asked, too busy forcing his mind quiet to really pay attention to the question. 

“Uh, because you’re…” Shane trailed off, seemed to think better of what he was about to say, then just ended in an awkward little hum.

It took Ryan a second, his preoccupation making him slow. He rolled his eyes once he got it. “Because I’m what, Shane?”

Shane finally turned away from his dresser, making a face at Ryan. “I’m not digging myself out of this one, am I?”

Ryan wanted to smile. He wanted to laugh and tease Shane. But the energy to do so just wasn't there. He sighed instead, then stood. “My last name is Bergara. That should have been a clue,” he said dismissively. There was a pause, then something made him grudgingly add, “It was a gift from my abuela when I first moved out of my parent’s home. I haven’t actually stepped foot in a church in years.”

It wasn’t Shane’s fault that Ryan was being stupidly paranoid. 

He walked up next to Shane, staring at the pictures. His favorite was one of him and his brother when they were just kids, posing with their mother. They all looked happy. 

“Do you know Spanish?” Shane asked with cautious interest. 

“Just enough to get me in trouble.”

“Well that could just be one word.”

Ryan managed a small smile, the expression drug out of him. “Sí.”

Shane elbowed him lightly, snickering, then wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Ryan melted into the embrace, sick to his stomach that he was taking comfort from the very man he was having paranoid suspicions about. But the arm was a warm weight, and it felt nice. 

“Your mother is a beautiful woman.”

Ryan couldn’t help the way he flinched, a sudden fear making his fingers start trembling. _No, don’t notice my family, don’t notice my family_.

 _No, no, don’t be stupid, he’s innocent, he’s innocent, he’s innocent_.

“Thanks, I guess,” he forced himself to reply, stopping the continous chanting in his head. Even to his own ears, his voice sounded strained. 

“Ryan?”

Goddamnit, couldn’t he break down without Shane noticing? 

“Yeah?”

Shane moved in front of him, bringing his hand around to trail down Ryan’s arm. “What’s wrong? You’re being oddly distant.”

Ryan met Shane’s eyes, trying to stop the quiver in his fingers. “Do I need a reason? It’s been a real shitty day.”

Shane grimaced. “Yeah, the head was-” He paused, then winced. “The head was a bit much.”

It was impossible not to search Shane’s face at that, trying to discern what _exactly_ the man meant by that statement. Was he just saying that it was a ridiculous situation? Or was he tacitly apologizing for doing something so _stupid_?

All he saw was concen in those soft, dark eyes, that goofy, expressive face. 

Fuck. How could he be wondering these things about his best friend, his boyfriend, the man he lo-

Double fuck. 

“Do you remember that day at the gun range?” Ryan asked, before he could overthink it. 

Shane winked, a carefully cheerful leer making him look adorably silly. “I definitely remember that night.”

It-no, that wasn’t-Goddamnit. Ryan leaned forward until his head was resting against Shane’s chest, laughing softly at himself. 

“What about it?”

“I just…” Ryan chickened out. “Just wondering.”

Shane made a contemplative noise, bringing one hand up to start playing with Ryan’s hair, then petting the nape of his neck. Ryan tilted his head without realizing it, allowing easier access. After the day he’d had, it felt stupidly relaxing. 

The stress of the situation was making him see things, making him put too much emphasis on memories that he was probably blowing out of proportion. Shane was weird, but he wasn’t a killer. 

_He killed a suspect his first week as an officer. He_ is _a killer_. 

But he had saved his partner by doing so, Ryan reminded himself. That almost made him a hero, right?

Shane pulled away, chuckling softly when Ryan followed him, trying to keep those fingers in his hair. “You should eat. I made spaghetti.”

“Wow, I’m impressed,” Ryan said flatly. “That must have taken you forever.”

“Yup. Chef Madej, at your service.”

Ryan shook his head, smiling up at the man. Shane paused, simply staring at him for a long moment. 

“What?”

Long fingers brushed against his shoulder, then gently grasped his arm. “There’s a myth about a Greek woman named Phryne, who was sentenced to death for impiety. But she was so beautiful that they couldn’t bring themselves to do it, fearing that killing someone so perfect would bring the wrath of the gods.”

Ryan just stared at him.

Shane quirked a little smile. “You’re beautiful.”

“Has that line _ever_ worked for you?”

“You’re the first, so the jury is still out.”

Ryan shook his head, exasperated and fond. “That was way too many words just to tell me I’m hot.”

Shane rolled his eyes. “Right, sorry, forgot who I was dealing with.” He cleared his throat, then said, in a cheesy surfer dude voice, “Bro, your biceps are sick.”

“Hell yeah they are.”

They both grinned at each other, then Shane leaned down to give him a toe-curling kiss that managed to make him forget, just for a moment, any paranoid thoughts he might have ever had.

Damn it. He really loved this man. 

\---------------------------------

The neighborhood that Layla Thompson lived in was the definition of poor and downtrodden. It was also not a cop-friendly area, and Ryan had only been here once before, the first time he had interviewed Thompson. 

The surroundings houses looked the same as they had, but Thompson’s house showed signs of recent upkeep. A couple of potted plants were making a valiant effort to liven up the front steps, and the general clutter that had been strewn across the bare dirt was gone. 

All possible signs that Thompson was trying to move on from the tragedy in her life. Ryan wondered if the news they were about to impart would help or hinder in her efforts. 

Hayes glanced at him to make sure he was ready before knocking on the door, three sharp raps. It didn’t take long for them to hear the door unlocking, then opening all the way

Thompson must have been expecting someone else, because her expression was the closest thing to a real smile he had seen from her. Ryan couldn’t exactly blame her for the way that smile dropped when she recognized him. “Detective Bergara?” 

“Ms. Thompson, this is Detective Hayes. We’re working together on a new case.” 

Thompson murmured a polite greeting, her eyes sharp. “Is this about Leo?”

Ryan exchanged a glance with Hayes. “Could we come in?”

For a moment, he thought that they were going to have to have this conversation on the steps, but Thompson eventually backed away, inclining her head in a silent invitation. They followed her down the thin hallway and into a small, but well-cared for, kitchen. She sat down at a rickety, scarred table. After an awkward second, they pulled out chairs and sat across from her. 

“What has Leo done now?” Thompson sounded tired. 

Ryan sat quietly, letting Hayes take the lead. The other detective was older and had more experience with notifying the next of kin about deaths. He hadn’t had to do it often, but telling people that their loved one was dead was a terrible experience. Not that Ryan thought Thompson would be particularly shaken up by the news. 

“Ma’am,” Hayes said, resting his hands on the table in an open gesture. “We regret to inform you that Leo Taylor was murdered five days ago.”

There was a moment where Thompson just stared at them, uncomprehending. Then her shoulders slumped in obvious relief. She covered her eyes with one hand, laughing softly in disbelief. “That bastard finally pissed off the wrong person, didn’t he?” 

“The investigation is ongoing,” Hayes said. “We were wondering if we could ask you some questions.”

Thompson lowered her hand, her eyes narrowed at them. “Am I a suspect?”

“No,” Ryan said, shaking his head. “Not at this time.”

“Okay,” she agreed after a moment. “Ask your questions.”

Hayes brought out his notebook, flipped to a new page, then said, “It’s appreciated Ms. Thompson. Can you tell us when was the last time you saw Taylor?”

“Thursday.”

That was the day Kornfield said Taylor had been killed. 

“What was he doing? Was he acting strangely?” Ryan asked. 

Thompson shook her head. “No, he was just being himself until the cop came.” Ryan and Hayes glanced at each, but Thompson kept talking. “He put on his suit, then the cop took him to the courthouse. Didn’t really think anything about him not coming back afterwards. Figured he’d been thrown in jail again.”

There was a long pause, but Ryan couldn’t bring himself to ask the obvious question. 

“Why did the cop take him to the courthouse?,” Hayes eventually asked. 

“He said something about escorting Leo. And I guess the court date had been moved or something, because the letter from the courthouse said Friday.”

Ryan bit the inside of his cheek, unable to make himself speak, unwilling to point out the obvious flaws in that statement, or how that didn’t match any policies or procedures. Hayes had to pick up the slack again. “Can you describe this cop?”

Thompson furrowed her brow, clearly picking up that something was wrong. “White, really tall. Polite. More polite than most of the cops that come through here,” she said. Then she winced. “Present company excluded, of course.”

Hayes waved that away. “Can you remember his name?”

“Uh, something really common? Jones or Smith. Smith, it was Smith.”

Neither Ryan nor Hayes mentioned the fact that no officer, let alone a white one, would come to this neighborhood alone. The LAPD was ruthlessly pragmatic in that regard. 

“Do you think you’d be able to provide an accurate description to a sketch artist?”

Thompson actually frowned at that. “Maybe. Are you telling me that guy wasn’t a cop?”

“No ma’am, we’d just like to cover our bases,” Hayes was quick to say. “As you can imagine, there are quite a few Officer Smiths. We’d just like to make sure we talk to the right one.”

The rest of the interview passed in a blur to Ryan. He was barely able to ask supporting questions to help Hayes and he was pretty certain he was going to have to ask to borrow the man’s stupid notebook just to double check the facts. They ascertained Thompson’s whereabouts during the suspected time of death, and asked her about Taylor’s habits and who he had been dealing with lately. 

It didn’t come as a surprise to learn that Taylor kept most of his life private from Thompson. She thought he might have joined a new crew, but she wasn’t sure which one. The only interesting tidbit of information was that she had no idea where Taylor would have gotten the money to hire his lawyers during the trial over their children’s death. 

Ryan was able to politely thank Thompson for her cooperation, make it to the car, and slide into the passenger seat. 

He then proceeded to very quietly freak out.

Hayes didn’t say a single thing, which was appreciated. 

They were stuck in traffic, about halfway to the station, when Ryan finally felt like he had a grip on his emotions. 

He tried to say something, coughed, then tried again. “You don’t think…?”

Hayes sighed, having obviously been waiting for this. “Why do you think it might be Madej?”

_Damn it._

“Was is it that obvious?”

“Thompson said it was a really tall officer and you looked like you’d seen a ghost. I’m surprised you didn’t run screaming out of the room.”

The only response Ryan could give to that was a petulant scowl. 

“So, other than the fact that we just had to go through too many months of speculation over Madej being the Lover, why do you think he has a connection to Taylor?”

A deep breath. _Just say it_. “After Taylor was let off for killing his kids, I told Shane that I wanted the bastard dead.”

Hayes waited, then took his eyes off the road long enough to shoot Ryan an incredulous look. “That’s it? I used to tell my ex that I wanted to strangle half of my suspects with my bare hands so often that she was able to say it along with me.”

“No, I get that, but there’s uh, other things.” The strong memory of Shane, looking tall and handsome in his uniform, was all Ryan could see for a moment. But he couldn’t bring himself to mention it out loud. “The fact that the head was mailed to _me_. The weird way he acts sometimes. Like, actually weird.”

“Bergara, if we arrested every person that was a little bit weird, there’d be no one left outside of prison.”

Ryan paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. But the truth of the matter was, he _wanted_ to be convinced that Shane was innocent. He could feel some of the tension leaving his body. “So you don’t think he could be our suspect?”

Hayes made a contemplative noise, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel as he gave it some thought. Ryan could appreciate that the man was actually entertaining the notion, rather than just dismissing it outright. Even if he wanted to be wrong. 

“I think you had to listen to two very good attorneys try to convince the world that Madej was a serial killer, and you’ve let that get in your head.” Hayes said. “So no, I don’t think he’s our suspect. Assuming it was an actual officer that picked up Taylor, there’s probably literally dozens of Smiths in the LAPD. And Thompson was shorter than me, she probably thinks anyone over six foot is tall.” Hayes raised one finger, adding emphasis to his next point. “ _And_ this LA. It wouldn’t be hard to get an accurate police uniform in this town. Hell, even a squad car wouldn’t be that hard to get. It could have just been some guy.”

WIth something like relief, Ryan let his mind run down that path of questions. “It’d be a weird coincidence, but an officer picking up Taylor might not even have anything to do with his death.”

Hayes shook his head. “Nah, we both know there’s something fishy about that entire scenario.”

“Yeah, but it’s something to think about.”

But Ryan still couldn’t convince his brain to just shut up for one moment. 

Hayes looked over at him, then huffed out a little sigh. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

Ryan shrugged. 

The other man sighed, muttered something under his breath, then said, “Alright. Do you love the guy?”

“I-uh, I don’t know what-” Ryan instantly stuttered, feeling his face go hot from how quickly he became embarrassed. 

“Bergara, just answer the question.”

_Fuck._

“Yes.”

Hayes nodded. “And you’re terrified that if you’re wrong, you’ll have fallen in love with a murderer.”

Ryan blinked, then turned to stare at him. It sounded so simple when Hayes said it like that. “How the hell-?”

“The shiny badge wasn’t something I got out of a cereal box, I do know how to read people.”

“You’re an asshole, Hayes.”

The other man smiled, like he had just been complimented. But the smile fell off his face after a moment. “The question is whether or not you love him enough to question him.”

“What? What does that even mean?”

“Look,” Hayes said, flipping on his turn signal, then parking next to the station. Ryan hadn’t even realized they'd been that close. “Either you question him, you get into a fight because God knows the man has been accused enough, you get over it, and you move on to have a wonderful rainbow-filled life together.” He held up his hand before Ryan could say anything to that statement. “ _Or_ you don’t question him, it festers and becomes all you think about, until one day you blow up and it completely ruins your marriage. Uh. Relationship.”

Ryan stared at him for a moment, then said, “You thought your wife was a murderer?”

There was an awkward little movement, like Hayes was trying to shuffle in his seat. “Ah, no. I thought she was cheating on me. But the principle is the same. Look, you can’t prove a negative. So unless you get this figured out, you’re always going to be looking for evidence that Madej is a suspect, no matter how innocent he actually is.”

_You can’t prove a negative._

God, that was the entire problem with this whole mess. But Hayes had a point. As much as it pained Ryan to admit it, he knew he had started looking for sinister reasons behind every single thing Shane did lately. He needed to just confront the man. Even if the thought made his stomach feel like it was about to crawl out his mouth. 

“Uh, thanks,” Ryan said slowly. “You’ve given me a lot to think about, Hayes.”

Hayes rolled his eyes. “At this point, _Ryan_ , I think you can call me Justin in private. You already do half the time anyways.”

“Aww, did we just become friends?” Ryan grabbed onto the topic change gladly, tired of talking about such emotional things. 

“I’m just using you because I’ve heard that gay men make great wingmen,” Hayes said with a mock-serious expression. Then his face scrunched. “Or am I thinking of puppies?”

“...I can see why your wife left you.”

Hayes put his hand on his chest dramatically. “Ow. Right in the heart, Bergara.” After a quick glance at Ryan, probably to make sure the conversation was done, he unbuckled his seat belt and got out of the car. Ryan followed suit, feeling lighter. 

Sure, he was now planning on confronting his boyfriend on beheading a child killer, but it couldn’t go that badly, could it?

“I was also in a frat,” Ryan yelled after Hayes. “I can get you so many women, you have no idea.”

“Should I be jealous?” asked someone from right behind him. 

Ryan yelped, stumbling over his own feet. A strong hand caught his arm, keeping him from making even more of a fool of himself. He looked up at Shane, who was doing nothing to hide his laughter. “Where the fuck did you come from?”

Shane raised an eyebrow, still laughing, then nodded towards the front of the car. “I was literally standing right there when you guys pulled in. What were you two talking about so intently?”

“Uh-” Ryan thought fast. “The case. And Hayes’ divorce.” Which was technically true. 

“Okay,” Shane said, obviously choosing to dismiss that last bit. “Did you learn anything from Thompson?”

Why did Shane look so interested in the answer? Wait, no, he wasn’t going to second-guess everything Shane did anymore. He had a plan now.

“Do you want stir fry tonight?” Ryan blurted. “I’ll make it. It’ll be a whole thing.”

Shane looked taken aback, but then he smiled. “Sure. Sounds good.”

Ah hell. 

What had he gotten himself into?

\-------------------------------------------

Alright. 

_I can do this. I can do it._

He was just going to casually, gently ask Shane what he was doing on Thursday. And if he could prove it. Because that wouldn’t be a suspicious question in the slightest. 

Ryan sighed, then rubbed at his forehead with the back of his hand, careful of the knife he was holding. This was so ridiculous. If he actually thought Shane was a suspect, he wouldn’t be asking him questions at home, while making dinner, right? So that must mean that he subconsciously thought he was innocent. 

Right?

“That smells good,” Shane said, walking behind him across the kitchen. The man paused just long enough to press a kiss to the scar on Ryan’s shoulder, the shiny, quarter-sized mark just barely peeking out from under Ryan’s tank top. Shane did that sometimes, like he needed a constant reminder that Ryan had survived Jess relatively unscathed. 

It always left Ryan feeling warm. 

“All I’ve done is put garlic and oil in a pan,” Ryan said derisively. He went back to slicing the vegetables in front of him, half of his attention still trying to decide just what he was going to ask. “Even you could do that much.”

“Wow,” Shane said absently, his voice going muffled as he started looking for something in the fridge. “That’s some random hatred on my cooking right there. Did you move the wine?”

“We had wine?”

Ryan heard Shane sigh, but it was a fond sound. The man was obviously in a mellow mood, so, well- _fuck it_.

He took a deep breath. “Hey, uh, what did you get up to on Thursday?”

There was a pause. “Why?”

“Just wondering. The whole uniform thing, you know?”

Ryan could hear Shane close the door, then a couple of soft footsteps. Shane was right behind him. “I told you,” the man said slowly, carefully. “I went to my storage unit and grabbed a few boxes.”

“Nothing else?”

Shane made a quiet, incredulous noise. He moved, then suddenly he was leaning on the counter next to Ryan, not looming so much as he was existing. In a very tall way. “I thought you running into Wright’s apartment without backup and going after Jessica in your fucking boxers were flukes, but no, you really have no self-preservation instincts at all, do you?”

Ryan very carefully kept his eyes down, focusing so intently on the onion in his hands that he was slicing it into tiny, see-through ribbons. “Ah, I uh-”

“I read your report on Thompson’s interview, and I saw the description she gave the sketch artist.”

That got a full body cringe. “It’s not what you think?” Ryan’s voice came out far more high-pitched than he liked. 

“What I think is that you’re an idiot. Your brilliant plan was what? Confront me alone, with no weapon and no backup? And what if I had admitted to it, huh? What were you going to do then?”

Well shit, now he felt like an asshole _and_ an idiot. 

“Shane, I- you. You have to know how this looks.”

Shane let out a quiet little laugh that held no humor. “It looks like my boyfriend doesn’t trust me.”

“What?” Ryan looked up at that, hands going still. “No, that’s not it at all-” And then he got a good look at Shane’s face. 

Over the months, Ryan had become remarkably skilled at reading Shane’s face. He knew when the man was angry or depressed, even when he was trying to hide it. He knew when Shane was was holding back an inappropriate joke and when he was annoyed with the person he was talking to, or when he was tired but didn’t want anyone to know. 

Ryan also knew when Shane was faking those emotions. There was something in how Shane’s eyes stayed flat, but his facial expressions became slightly exaggerated. 

There were times when Shane responded to a situation with the emotion he thought he was _supposed_ to respond with, not with how he was actually feeling. Like he had a little book in his head, telling him ‘this is how a normal person would react’ or ‘this is the best reaction in order to get the outcome I want.’

And he was doing that now. Ryan could tell that Shane wasn’t actually depressed, or hurt that Ryan could accuse him. There was _something_ behind those dark eyes, some kind of negative emotion that Shane was trying to hide, but it wasn’t sadness. 

“Are you...Are you angry with me?” Ryan asked tentatively. 

Shane stared at him for a second, then his face twisted and he slammed his hand down on the counter. “Of course I’m fucking angry with you!”

The sudden loud noise startled Ryan, and his hands slipped. There was the peculiar feeling of skin parting, the sting of air on open nerve endings, then a rush of _pain_.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he hissed, dropping the knife to wrap his opposite hand around his fingers. He could feel the slippery warmth of blood, and he bit his cheek to stop from groaning. 

Any anger Shane might have been feeling dropped so fast that it had to have been dizzying. He was suddenly in Ryan’s space, his face and voice showing nothing but frantic concern. “Shit, Ryan, are you okay? What happened?”

For a moment, Ryan had the childish thought that if he just didn’t look at his hand, it wouldn’t be that bad. Even without looking, he could tell he had cut his first two fingers, bad enough that he could feel the tug of each movement. 

“Ryan, I need to see how bad it is.”

Shane’s voice had become gentle and calm, the tone of someone trained to deal with emergencies. That snapped Ryan out of his growing panic, and he forced himself to grit his teeth and reveal his fingers. Fuck, he had been shot before, a couple of cut fingers were nothing to freak out over. 

There was a slice that spanned across the tips of his first two fingers, deep enough that bright red blood was dripping continuously from the wound, but it didn’t look bad enough that he would need stitches. It just hurt like hell. 

Ryan let Shane pull him gently towards the sink, then stick his fingers under faucet. He bit back the urge to tell Shane that he was an adult, he could do it himself. The stream of cold water was a shock at first, but it quickly became soothing. 

Shane muttered something about band aids, then hurried out of the kitchen. Ryan barely heard him, too busy feeling mortified that he had cut himself like that, and sick that he hadn’t approached questioning Shane in the right way. Of course the man would have read his report. Why hadn’t he thought of that? There was no way Shane wouldn’t have kept himself informed on Ryan’s investigation, even if it wasn’t any of his official business. 

His gaze wandered towards the knife he had been using, it’s blade resting against the wall from when he had dropped it. Ryan blinked. Stared. That wasn’t his knife. 

It was a sleek little paring knife, it’s black handle made of wood and silver metal. It was clearly more expensive than any piece of kitchen equipment that he owned. 

Shane came back into the room, carrying an assortment of band aids, gauze, and disinfectant. Ryan let Shane pull his hand out of the water, then watched as the man cleaned and bandaged the cuts. Ryan’s gaze kept wandering, from the knife to Shane’s blood-stained fingers. 

The image was so fucking fitting that Ryan started laughing, a wheezing, strained noise that verged on cracking. 

“Ryan?”

Ryan inhaled, a sharp, painful breath. 

He did nothing as those faintly pink fingers rose up to brush his cheek.

“Ry, baby, what’s wrong?”

“That’s not my knife.”

“What?”

“That’s not my knife!” Ryan repeated in a high pitched voice, feeling a vice squeeze around his heart. He turned wide eyes towards Shane, sounding like he was begging to be believed. Ryan didn’t know what was going on with him, why he felt like the floor was about to fall out from under his legs, but he _needed_ Shane to understand what he couldn’t even understand himself. “I don’t know where I got it, I just grabbed it out of the drawer, and it was so sharp, it couldn’t be mine-”

“Ryan,” Shane snapped, bringing his hands up to frame Ryan’s face. “It’s mine. It’s okay, it’s mine.” His dark eyes bore into Ryan’s. “There’s nothing on it, okay? It’s clean.”

The world stilled. 

Ryan jerked back, away from Shane’s hands. The world, his sense of self, all of his clashing thoughts and feelings, it all came rushing back. It was disorienting, and he latched onto the first emotion he could. Anger. 

“That! That is why you’re so fucking suspicious, Shane! You say things like that all the time. These stupid little fucking asides, like you know something everyone else doesn’t.”

Shane straightened, his concern quickly turning to annoyance. “That’s just how I talk, Ryan. You can’t fucking accuse someone of murder just because they’re a sarcastic asshole.”

“Where were you on Thursday?”

“I told you!”

“Thompson described a white man well over six foot in a cop uniform. You were _wearing your uniform_ ,” Ryan said, making a short, angry gesture that encompassed all of Shane. “That’s suspicious!”

“For fuck’s sake,” Shane swore, roughly dragging his hand through his hair. He looked away from Ryan, the very pose of offended disbelief. “I’m getting really fucking sick of being suspected whenever someone is killed by a tall man.”

“That isn’t why-”

“It sure looks like some kind of, I don’t know, fucking height prejudice or something.”

Ryan made a frustrated noise. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Why, because the white guy can’t understand prejudice, is that what this is?”

 _Did he seriously just_ -

Ryan’s jaw worked soundlessly for a second, he was so stunned. “Excuse me?! Are you seriously going to try and pull that when you assumed I spoke Spanish literally just last night?”

“I didn’t assume, I _asked_ ,” Shane said with genuine anger. “Pardon me for thinking that the man with the Spanish last name that refers to his grandmother as abuela just might know Spanish.”

“I don’t fucking assume you know fucking German or something.”

“Polish.”

Ryan stopped mid-word, thrown for a loop. “Uh, what?”

“If we’re going with last name stereotypes, I’d know Polish. Although thank you for assuming that just because I’m white that I must be German.”

For some weird reason, Ryan was suddenly just...confused. All of the trembling emotion that had been screaming inside of him faltered, draining away. They had come so far from the original fight that he wasn’t entirely sure what they were fighting about anymore. He knew that Shane hadn’t actually answered his question about Thursday, and he knew that an oddly timed argument about racial prejudices was not important when Taylor’s head was still sitting in a morgue drawer, but the only thing he could think to say was, “You’re Polish?”

This time Shane was the one who was caught flat-footed by the question. “Uh, yes?”

“You never told me.” Ryan’s voice was quiet. Small. 

Shane’s shoulders relaxed, his head dropping a little. He spread his hands, a helpless little gesture. “You never asked.” He looked away and muttered, “You never ask.”

“You never ask me anything,” Ryan said, a tired attempt at defending himself. “I was just following your example.”

There was a long sigh. “I do ask, Ryan. You just never answer.” Shane shrugged, still not looking at Ryan. “I get it now. You’ve been afraid of me this whole time, haven’t you? And so you don’t want me to know about your family or friends. And you don’t want to know about me because then I become a real person. And a real person is a lot harder to arrest.”

Shane sounded...lost.

Ryan wasn’t stupid. He _knew_ Shane. He knew that Shane was a dramatic person to begin with and that he was amazingly clever at manipulation. And Shane was laying it on thick right now. 

Shane wanted Ryan to feel bad, and he was doing a very good job of accomplishing it.

But that didn’t mean he was wrong, either. 

Well, shit. 

_I am a complete and utter asshole._

“I’ll give you the address of my storage unit,” Shane said quietly. “You can ask to look at their security footage if you want to verify my story.”

“Shane, I’m sor-”

“If your fingers hurt too much to keep cooking, I’ll go order takeout.”

Ryan growled a swear, then marched up to Shane and pulled him into a hug. It was awkward, since it was like trying to hug a tree, but even with the regular gym routine, he was still stronger than Shane. The man wasn’t going anywhere. Eventually, Shane slowly wrapped his arms around Ryan’s shoulders. 

“I’m not afraid of you,” Ryan muttered.

He could feel Shane relax, then rest his cheek on top of Ryan’s head. He hated when Shane did that, but for right now, he let it pass. 

“I actually did take a few years of German,” Shane said, more of a mumble than anything else. 

Ryan rolled his eyes, even though Shane couldn’t see it. “You dick.”

Shane’s soft laugh shook him ever so slightly. “This had better lead to amazing makeup sex, by the way.”

Ryan muffled his own laugh in Shane’s shirt.

It wasn’t until hours later, while laying in bed and pleasantly sore, that Ryan realized just how neatly and effectively Shane had derailed his attempts at questioning him. 

Already past midnight, and Ryan was still awake, staring up at the ceiling. Once in awhile, Shane would shift in his sleep, little movements that managed to comfort Ryan and drive his nerves tighter at the same time. It was just so hard to think that a potential murderer could be so normal, with common, everyday habits. When he had to arrest someone, he wasn’t thinking about their coffee preferences or whether they liked to sleep on their side. 

Shane had been right. Ryan didn’t want to think of him as a person. 

_Alright, lay out the facts. Make a decision._

Ryan stared unseeing into the dark, trying to gather his thoughts into a proper order. He wished for a moment that he could steal an evidence board from the station, or even write his notes down in some kind of twisted pros/cons list, but he didn’t want any kind of evidence laying around. 

He quickly decided he wasn’t going to think about the entire Lover fiasco right now. He knew he’d be up all night if he tried to sort out his feelings on _that_. Instead, he isolated everything he knew about Taylor’s death, which admittedly wasn’t much, and placed it in the forefront of his mind. 

Were there many people willing to kill Taylor? Probably. Thompson was an obvious suspect, and if the circumstances had been even slightly different, she was the one that Ryan would have been looking at the closest. There was also the fact that Taylor had ties to many of the smaller gangs in his neighborhood. He could have easily double crossed the wrong person, or owed money that he didn’t pay in time. 

There was even the possibility, however small, that someone had acted on their own to punish a child-killer. It was a slim chance, but such acts weren’t unheard of. 

The problem was that Taylor’s head had been delivered to Ryan. A random vigilante or gang member wouldn’t have done that. While he was officially on record as being the investigator in the Thompson children case, he had never interacted directly with anyone besides Taylor and Thompson. 

Which led back to Shane. He had a personal connection to Ryan, and Ryan had observed on more than one occasion that Shane was sometimes disturbingly eager to please. Would that eagerness translate into willingly killing someone?

That was the question, wasn’t it? 

The frustrating part was that Ryan had no evidence, no actual facts. Even Thompson’s description of the officer that had picked up Taylor was ambiguous. Tall and dark haired didn’t mean shit in LA. 

A quick call to the courthouse had confirmed that Taylor’s court date hadn’t been moved. Since it had been a proceeding over drug possession, no one had been particularly surprised when Taylor hadn’t shown up. In fact, no one had reported Taylor missing, despite the fact that he had been dead for three days by the time his head appeared.

No one had cared enough about Taylor to worry that he was missing. And with good reason. So, in the end, did it really even matter?

 _Do I even care that he’s dead_?

Ryan paused, holding his breath as that thought repeated itself. A small part of him, ignored until now, was _glad_ that Taylor was dead. It was, frankly, the least the man deserved. 

He shook his head sharply, clearing that notion away. No, he couldn’t think like that. Down that path lay madness. 

There were no facts and only conjecture. 

What Ryan needed was evidence. Hayes had been right. Until he convinced himself one way or another, he would always be leery of Shane. And an underhanded, dirty, brilliant plan came to Ryan. 

It would be unethical, bordering on entrapment, and quite literally illegal if his worst fears were true. 

Ryan was going to set up Shane. 

Nothing major. Nothing that would make Shane feel like he _had_ to do something. But Ryan would wait. He would watch his own cases, and Shane’s. And when someone deserving of it, some asshole of a murderer with no remorse managed to get away from justice, he would just...mention it to Shane. That was it. No enticing, no commanding. Just a simple statement. ‘I think so-and-so deserves to be dead.’

And then it would be up to Shane. 

With that plan cemented in his head, a weight lifted off Ryan. He felt sick to his stomach, since he was _planning an assassination_ if his worst suspicions were correct. But there was a strong, visceral sense of relief as well. Because until the opportunity arose, he could now just ignore everything weird or off-putting about Shane. He could just accept the man, with no hesitation. 

Everything about this was immoral and underhanded. But if Shane was innocent, it wouldn’t matter anyways, because no one would die. 

Ryan felt like he was going to throw up. 

He felt lighter than he had in months. 

Without conscious thought, he rolled onto his side and molded himself along Shane’s back, who, even in sleep, welcomed Ryan’s sudden presence with a quiet murmur and a hand wrapped around Ryan’s wrist.  
\----------------------

Life moved on. 

Taylor’s body was never found and and no one cared enough about his death to pursue it for long. When weeks passed and no other random body parts made their way to Ryan’s desk, the investigation was shuffled over to cold cases and mostly forgotten about. 

Chastened by Shane’s disappointment, Ryan made it a point to introduce Shane to some of his closest friends and tell him more about his childhood. Although he could never quite manage to introduce Shane to his family. 

Ryan was never sure if that was because he was still afraid or if it was just a good old fashion case of the nerves. He didn’t think he wanted Shane talking to his brother and learning the more embarrassing parts of his life. 

Work _finally_ settled into a routine. Or at least as much of a routine as a detective always on call could have. Ryan and Shane didn’t work on any more cases together, which meant that their schedules became skewed from each other, but living together still worked, somehow. 

Months passed. They grew closer. Ryan accidentally said ‘I love you’ one morning, just as he was rushing out the door because he was going to be late. Shane, who didn’t need to leave for another hour, had stared at him with a stunned expression, looking like an idiot with his open mouth and ratty pajamas. 

Ryan didn’t realize what he had said until he was in the car. Just as he started to panic, he’d received a text that simply said ‘Don’t be stupid. <3 you too.’

It was so _Shane_ that Ryan had just laughed, feeling like he didn’t stop smiling for the rest of the day. 

The entire time, Ryan kept a tab on their cases, keeping an eye out for any clearly guilty suspect that was about to walk away free. But there just wasn’t anyone that fit the criteria exactly. There were plenty of guilty assholes, and more than one person that was found innocent. But no one who was both clearly guilty _and_ free. 

And then Ryan did something stupid. 

It was the middle of January, fast approaching a whole year since Ryan had first met Shane. Which was a startling thought. 

Ryan was investigating the death of a young woman who had recently moved to LA. Her body had been found in an alleyway, covered in syringe marks and bruises under the bloating and paleness of her dead skin. Her death would have most likely been overlooked as drug overdose if her parents hadn’t reported her missing the very same day. 

When the medical examiner looked closer, he found evidence that she had been strangled to death, which sent Ryan down a rabbit hole of drug dealers, prostitutes, and pimps. It wasn’t the first time he had dealt with the shadier parts of the city, but it had never been so convoluted. 

His case ended up leading to a series of deaths that Yang was investigating, all tied to the local drug trade. By all rights, Yang should have given the case over to Gang and Narcotics weeks ago, but he had some kind of rivalry going on with them that Ryan didn’t bother to question. 

They had never actually worked together, despite being in the same building for the past two years, and it was proving to be uh, interesting. To say it politely. They were both driven individuals, but Yang seemed to have a ‘work hard, play hard’ attitude that made Ryan’s college days look tame by comparison. It was exhausting after a few days. 

Ryan was leaning over Yang’s desk, their heads together as they both went over some files. There were papers strewn across the entire surface, and about twenty tabs open on the computer. 

“No matter how I look at this, it keeps leading back to Murray,” Yang said, glaring at some photographs of bodies. “And he’s got so much legal protection on him, it’d be pointless to even try.”

Ryan turned one rap sheet towards himself, then tapped the mug shot. “What about Douglas again? We know we’ve got witnesses placing him in proximity to my girl, your dealers, _and_ Murray.”

Yang leaned closer, brow furrowed as he scanned the paper. “How was his alibi?”

“Flimsy at best. 

“Why hasn’t he been brought in for questioning yet?”

Ryan gestured at the spread of files in front of them. “Because we had about a million other leads to go over?”

Yang scowled, like the mess was personally offending him, then dragged Douglas’ file towards himself to read it again. Ryan started trying to organize all of the paper into something resembling a system, when he just happened to glance up. 

Shane was staring at them from across the desks. He was holding his pen in one hand, looking like he was in the middle of filling out forms, but his gaze was unwavering. There was, amusingly, obvious jealousy in his expression. There was also something else, and since he was a man, Ryan could take a wild guess at what Shane was thinking. 

Clearly exaggerating his movements, Ryan made sure Shane knew what his opinion was by glancing at Yang, raising one eyebrow, then rolling his eyes. 

Shane winked cheerfully, raising his own eyebrows.

“Stop flirting,” Yang grumbled without looking up from the rap sheet.

“You’re just jealous.”

“If I wanted a pencil, I’d go to Staples.”

It took Ryan a second, and then he started laughing so hard he couldn’t breath. “Holy shit, I’m stealing that,” he gasped. 

Yang smirked, but his response was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. He sighed and got up, excusing himself with a mumbled, “I’ve got to take this.”

Ryan wasn’t surprised when Shane stood and crossed the room towards him. He contemplated not acknowledging him, but the man had no shame, and would have no problem with embarrassing himself just to get Ryan’s attention. So he looked up, then said in a low tone, “No, Shane.”

Shane gave him an innocent look. “What? I just wanted to say hi.”

“Were you thinking something that would get you thrown into a sensitivity seminar?”

“Eh…” The man wiggled his hand back and forth.

“Shane!” Ryan hissed, though he couldn’t entirely keep himself from smiling. 

“What? I’m allowed to have a type, Ryan.”

“Please don’t-”

Shane merrily continued talking right over him, although he did lower his voice until it was barely a whisper. “I’d say tall, dark, and handsome but I guess two out of the three ain’t bad.”

“Dick,” Ryan muttered, though he was oddly flattered. Being called handsome in comparison to _Yang_ was a boost to the ego. He looked down, starting to stack the various rap sheets together. “5’10 is above aver-”

“Wait,” Shane said suddenly, reaching out to stop Ryan’s movements. “Why are you looking at Douglas?” He glanced at the computer screen, then added, “ _And_ Murray?”

Ryan glanced between the paper and Shane. “How do you know about them?”

“They’re suspects in one of my cases,” the man said, frowning as he rapidly scanned the information the Yang had typed down in an open tab on his computer. “Not main suspects, but they’re definitely tied to a couple of homicides that I haven't been able to figure out yet.

“Wait, really?” Ryan asked, shoving the rest of the paper to the side and sitting down in Yang’s chair. He clicked around until he could bring up the rest of Douglas and Murray’s info. “Who are the victims?”

“All prostitutes, most of them found strangled or beaten to death. All of them higher than a kite at time of death.”

“Shit,” Ryan muttered to himself, hastily clicking through tabs until he could bring up a third file. “Like this girl?”

Shane leaned forward, quickly scanning the information. “Yeah. Just like her.” He reached over Ryan’s shoulder, pointing at a list of known acquaintances. “And those two were very recently found dead.”

“Shit,” Ryan said again, dragging up even more files. “Can you copy your case files over to me and Yang?”

“Who invited the giraffe?”

Ryan looked behind himself, twisting in the chair, then waved Yang forward excitedly. “Shane might have just made things easier. Or way harder.” He highlighted the names Shane had indicated. “These two women are the victims in one of his cases. And they have ties to my girl, Douglas, and Murray.”

“Well fuck,” Yang said after a moment of reading. “I hate working three detectives to a case. I don’t suppose either of you would be willing to drop yours?”

Both Ryan and Shane just stared at him.

Yang sighed. “Okay, out of my chair. Let’s see just how far this web goes.”

The ‘web’, as it turned out, was actually fairly straight forward once they were able to bring all of the pieces together. 

Murray was a rich, high-powered businessman. And ‘businessman’ was something of a polite euphemism for ‘dealt with more drug dealers than the DEA.’ He was the rich, untouchable asshole that sat in boardrooms, making decisions that could get dozens killed on the streets. They knew it was an exercise in futility to try and pin anything on him, but they brought the information together anyways. 

After a week of interviews, checking histories and alibis, and tracking down witnesses, they were able to determine that Douglas was, while connected, nothing more than a favored thug. From what they could tell, he did most of the actual groundwork for Murray, doing all of his dirty work. 

And from what their witnesses and security footage could tell, he liked prostitutes. Douglas could be placed in proximity to most of the victims in Ryan and Shane’s cases around the time of their deaths. 

They were just a day away from putting their findings before a judge in order to get a warrant when Ryan got the brilliant idea to check with one of his criminal informants. Homicide often worked with informants, even if the information received wasn’t always permissible in court, so no one thought twice when he mentioned his decision. 

Except that he going to go to his informant, in the area where Douglas and Murray were known to operate, by himself, at night. 

Shane had looked like he wanted to strangle him. And uh, not in the usual way. 

Even Yang had given him a look like he thought Ryan was a complete idiot. 

Which is how all three found themselves in a club district after midnight, parked as inconspicuously as possible behind a cheap, dirty bar. Even through the closed doors, they could hear the pounding music from all of the buildings around them. 

“She doesn’t like cops, she’s not going to talk to me with you two looming over her,” Ryan said, taking his tie off and unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt in a probably doomed attempt to look more casual. He knew that a button up and slacks would be odd for the area, but hopefully his clothes wouldn’t scream ‘cop’ at first glance. 

“Ryan, the last time you ran off by yourself, you were nearly killed by a medical examiner.”

“And I can’t trust either of you to actually do anything right,” Yang said, ignoring the narrowed eyes that got him as he stepped out of the car. 

Ryan followed suit, turning to glare at them. “Stay back, then. She _might_ be willing to ignore you if you stay far enough away.”

Ashley, real name Katherine Monroe, was originally from a small town in Kansas. She had never volunteered why she had ended up working street corners in LA, and Ryan had never asked. Back when he had been a regular officer with a patrol, he had run into her more than once, and in exchange for information about the deals going on in the area, he had refrained from arresting her for prostitution. Ashley was smart enough to stay away from the harder drugs and the more violent pimps, which made her one of his better informants. 

She was standing with two other women, not actually at a street corner, and she wasn’t dressed in clothes that were any more revealing than what the club-goers around them were wearing. But to those who were looking for company for an hour, her profession was obvious. 

“Hey, honey-” Ashley started to say in a sugary voice as Ryan walked up to her, but then she recognized his face and her practiced smile dropped. “Oh, it’s you.”

Ryan snorted. “You sure know how to make a guy feel welcomed.”

She ignored him and turned towards her companions, whispering something to them. They eyed him, then moved a few yards down the street, making it clear that they were keeping watch. 

Ashley turned back towards him, then gestured behind him. “What’s with Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum over there?”

Ryan couldn’t entirely suppress his smile at that, but he shook his head. “They think they’re bodyguards, don’t worry about it. I like the hair.”

She gave him a flat look. “Thanks. Why are you here?”

A man walked passed them, then started talking to Ashley’s friends. Ryan ignored them, since it would be impolite to notice anything illegal going on right now. He pulled a couple of large bills out of his pocket, handing them to Ashley in a surprisingly smooth move. “I’m looking for any information about someone killing girls in the area, or drugs getting noticeably stronger.”

Ashley glanced at the money, stared at him for a second, then sighed. She leaned closer, dropping her voice to a whisper. “Alright, keep my name out of it, but I’ve heard there’s been some new guy showing up every other night. Real low life, but he must have gotten into something good, because he’s willing to pay in blow. It hasn’t been too obvious, but a few of the girls that go off with him haven’t come back to this street.”

“No one has seen them?”

She shrugged. “Didn’t care enough to ask.”

Ryan nodded, not really surprised, then pulled his phone out, flicking the screen on. “Did he look like either of these two men?”

Ashley glanced at his phone. “Both look familiar, but I think I’ve seen the one on the right going off with some of the girls.”

“You think?”

“Fairly certain.”

Ignoring the urge to fist pump in success, Ryan turned off his phone and slipped it back into his pocket. This was an eyewitness account that both Douglas and Murray had been in the area, buying prostitutes. And at least Douglas was using drugs to do so. 

Ryan started to thank Ashley, when a hand fell on his shoulder. “Ryan, we need to go,” Shane said, his voice low and urgent.

Ashley took a long step back, eyes narrowed in a mistrustful glare. Ryan couldn’t blame her, since not only did Shane look like a cop in plainclothes, he was currently vibrating with a manic energy. “What the fuck,” Ryan hissed, shrugging out from under Shane’s hand. “I told you to stay back.”

Shane grabbed him again, this time by the arm. “ _Now, Ryan_. That’s Douglas chatting with your friend’s companions.”

Ryan stared, uncomprehending, then shot a glance over his shoulder. 

The man that had passed them earlier was now blocks away, walking with one of Ashley’s friends, his grip on her arm reminiscent of the way Shane was holding onto Ryan right now. “Are you sure?” Ryan asked, his words stumbling over themselves in his haste. 

“Yes, Yang recognized him. We need to get out of here before he notices us.”

Ryan whirled, his voice going high-pitched, even as he struggled to stay quiet. “Shane, he might kill her.”

“No, Ryan,” Shane said, low and urgent. “Don’t even think about it. We don’t have probable cause _or_ backup.”

“Ashley,” Ryan said, making the woman jump. She had been following their conversation with slowly growing horror. “That girl, would she accept coke as payment?”

“Y-yes.”

“Do you know where they might go?”

Ashley bit her lip, looking uncertain, then she caved. “There’s an apartment building a couple blocks down. Apartment 10 is abandoned and doesn't have a lock. Some of us have been taking turns using it.”

“Ryan-”

“I can’t just let him kill her, Shane.”

Shane hesitated, staring at him, then swore. “Stay here, I’m going to get Yang. Seriously, please don’t do something stupid.”

Ryan waited just long enough for Shane to be too far away to hear him move, then he turned and took off as fast and as quietly as he could. He trusted Shane to follow him, but he didn’t trust that they would be able to move fast enough to stop Douglas if he did decide to do something. 

Would Douglas kill her right away? Or would he fuck her and then kill her? Or would they both try and get a high going first? There were just too many variables. Ryan knew that the smart thing to do was wait, figure out a proper plan of action that would follow procedure, but he just couldn’t allow someone to die. 

He quickly found the building that Ashley had mentioned. It was the kind of place that looked abandoned, but there were signs that people did actually live there. He opened the unlocked door and took the steps two at a time, wishing he hadn’t taken his gun off just to blend in. 

Goddamnit, this was why Shane got so mad at him sometimes, wasn’t it? 

Ryan slowed as he approached the apartment with a skewed ten next to it. The door was slightly ajar, and he couldn’t hear anything. Maybe Douglas hadn’t come here after all? 

He nudged the door open all the way with his toe, brow furrowed when he saw it was dark inside. He took a step forward.

There was a breath, a scuff of shoes, and Ryan instinctively jumped back, but not fast enough. 

A fist just clipped him, right across the brow. A second fist got a better hit in, landing squarely on his chin so hard that he felt a tooth crack. 

Ryan stumbled backwards, disoriented. He had taken self-defense classes, but he had never been seriously hit on the head before. Bright pain bloomed behind his eyes, and his vision swam. 

“Who the fuck are you?” asked his attacker. 

It took a second for the image to settle into place, but Ryan could just make out Douglas, now holding a knife and pointing it threateningly at him. 

“Where is the girl?” Ryan asked, words slurred. He forced himself to stand up straighter, ignoring the pain. 

Douglas sneered. “What’s it to you? Bitch probably fucking ODed by now, since I had to come out here to take care of you. You’re going to owe me if she did.”

“You were just going to kill her anyways,” Ryan said with more bravado than he felt. 

That got a shrug, like Douglas hadn’t actually decided yet, but allowed for the possibility. “Yeah, so? What’re you gonna do, arrest me?”

There were times when the universe worked so perfectly, so seamlessly, that it was downright cinematic. 

Just as Douglas finished his sentence, there were footsteps, then Yang rushed up the stairs, gun drawn, with Shane right behind him. 

“LAPD! Put your weapon down and get on the ground!”

Ryan couldn’t have planned the timing better if he had fucking tried. 

Both Ryan and Douglas just kind of gaped for a moment, taken aback. Unfortunately, Douglas was quicker on the uptake. Rather than try to make a run for it, he lunged towards Ryan, who was still sluggish from the hit to his head. 

He tried to struggle, but quickly found that a knife to the throat was a very effective deterrent to movement. 

Using Ryan as a shield, Douglas took a couple of steps back, forcing Ryan to walk backwards with him. 

“Put down your weapon,” Yang repeated. 

Douglas ignored him, too busy swearing under his breath and trying to navigate the hallways with a hostage to pay attention. 

Between the adrenaline and the hyper awareness of the blade nicking his skin, Ryan almost missed what Shane was doing. But movement behind Yang caught his eyes. 

Ryan felt his world narrow down to the barrel of Shane's gun. His breath caught.

_No, don’t try it, I’m right here, you’re going to miss-_

Shane, completely blank faced, arms perfectly steady, raised his gun. Aimed. 

Fired. 

Ryan could hear the impact, could _feel_ the way Douglas jerked, teetered, then dropped like a marionette with its strings cut. The knife still in the man’s hand scored a thin line across Ryan’s neck before dropping to the ground with a thud. 

The sound of the gunshot echoed in the hallway. 

“Son of a bitch,” Yang swore into the silence. 

Ryan just stared. He was shaking, he realized. Absently, he brought his hand up to his neck. It came away covered in drops of red.

Huh. 

_I hope that was a clean knife._

Suddenly Shane was right in front of him. Ryan started to open his mouth, unsure what he was going to say, when Shane punched him on the shoulder so hard that it made him sway. He almost stepped backwards onto Douglas’ body, but he managed to keep his balance. 

_That_ knocked Ryan out of his shocked state. 

“What the _fuck_ -”

Shane pulled him into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m in love with a fucking idiot,” he whispered, bringing his hand up to thread it though Ryan’s hair. “You bastard, if I had missed-”

In his post-adrenaline haze, Ryan had a sudden thought. 

Shane had just killed for him. Douglas was dead. The man they had been planning on pinning all of those murders on was now unable to be prosecuted. 

But Douglas had a partner. A benefactor. Someone who would weasel his way out of anything that was thrown at him. Who was just as guilty as Douglas. 

Ryan could hear Yang talking on the phone, calling back up and an ambulance. The man wasn’t paying attention to them. 

“Shane,” Ryan said, a strange edge to his voice. Shane straightened as if a superior had just called him to attention. “Murray won’t be going to trial.”

 _Something_ sparked in Shane’s gaze. He tilted his head, an acknowledgement of the statement. 

“He doesn’t deserve to be alive any more than Douglas did.”

Ryan’s words came out calm. Steady. He didn’t look away from those dark eyes. 

An actual shiver worked it’s way over Shane’s skin, but his lips turned down in a frown. “Ryan...I don’t think you know what you’re saying. You’re not ready.” Shane almost sounded like he was begging. For what, Ryan didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. Just like he didn’t want to know what he wasn’t ready for.

“Shane,” Ryan said his name like a command. Hard. Implacable. 

“Of course,” the man breathed immediately, then kissed Ryan on the forehead. 

When Shane pulled back, there was a fleeting moment where he looked sad. 

Like he had lost something. Or someone. 

Then he grinned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact, I actually removed two scenes. This used to be _longer_.
> 
> Thank you so much for the continued comments and kudos! My major hope for this work had been that a handful of people would find it entertaining, so this support has been a shock.  
> We're nearing the end. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the tags. 

By the time Ryan and Shane made it home, it was already the next day. They sat through the morning rush hour traffic in a silent daze, exhausted from the previous hours of interviews. And from being vocally reamed by Flores, who had told them in exacting, excruciating detail just how stupid they were. He had put the two of them on ‘extended medical leave’ as a punishment, but at least there wouldn’t be an official suspension on their records. Flores was pissed at them, yes, but Ryan _had_ saved a woman’s life with his rash decision, so he didn’t formally reprimand them. 

Shane had spent most of that uncomfortable hour in stone-faced silence, merely nodding when told that he wasn’t coming back until he went to twice the number of mandatory therapy sessions about his ‘damned trigger-happy instincts.’ Ryan had to force himself to stay quiet during his own dressing down, since a stubborn part of himself was not sorry for saving a life. 

He was a little afraid he was going to be relegated to a desk position for a few months, though. 

They stumbled into their apartment without saying a word to each other, both leaving a trail of clothes, shoes and holsters on the floor as they made their towards the bedroom. Ryan was fairly certain he had left his gun on top of his laptop, but he couldn’t summon the energy to care. At least Forensics had taken Shane’s gun, so they wouldn’t have to worry about tripping over that one in the morning. Afternoon. Whenever they woke up. 

Absently, while he was crawling his way onto the bed, Ryan wondered if this was what it was like to get old. His head hurt, his chin ached, his neck was on fire, and every muscle radiated soreness. He contemplated asking Shane, some vague thought to tease the man about being older, but the effort didn’t seem worth it. 

Shane had to tug the sheet out from under Ryan, then slid under it to join him, tangling their limbs together. It was like being trapped by a bony octopus, but Ryan just sighed and let it happen. He wasn’t surprised that Shane was being clingy right now, nor did he startle when a hand made its way to his neck, covering the bandaged wound. 

They slept like that for hours, until Ryan woke up with a crick in his neck and a dead arm. He managed to extricate himself from Shane, who mumbled something then rolled into the warm spot he left behind. 

Ryan showered, peeled uncomfortable, gummy contacts off of his eyes, then squinted at himself in the mirror. He winced, because there was already a dark, purpling bruise across half his jaw and another one right above his eye. The cut on his neck was puffy and an angry red line, but the tetanus shot that the paramedic had forced on him had actually hurt more than getting the wound in the first place, so he ignored it. Though Shane was going to be a dick about it, he just knew it. 

He padded out of the bathroom naked, yawning and stretching his arms, nearly clocking Shane in the face when he ran into him in the hallway. “ ‘the fuck?” he asked, words quiet despite his confusion. He was surprised the man was even awake, let alone walking around.

Shane looked at him with an expression that was somehow soft and intense at once, like he was sleepily trying to memorize Ryan’s face. Then he ducked down, hands settling on Ryan’s hips and he looked Ryan straight in the eyes. “I love you.” His voice was rough and scratchy from sleep. 

With his red eyes, patchy stubble, messy spiked up bed hair, and pale, drawn skin, Shane frankly looked like an alcoholic coming off a three day binge. He didn’t smell far off, either. But Ryan could feel his own face settle into a gentle smile. He reached up, hand resting on Shane’s neck, thumb stroking down his cheek. “I love you too, big buy,” he said, raising on his toes just long enough to kiss him on the corner of the mouth.

Shane smiled, though he looked faintly frustrated, like Ryan wasn’t getting the point. 

Deciding he was still too tired to try and figure out the riddle that was Shane, Ryan nudged him towards the bathroom. “Go shower. I’ve seen corpses that look better than you.”

That got him an eye roll and an exasperated huff of breath, but Shane turned towards the bathroom anyways. 

Ryan continued on his way into the bedroom with the vague intention of getting dressed. But the sight of the bed, with it’s mussed up blankets and skewed pillows, looked too tempting to pass up. Plus, going back to sleep sounded better than thinking about the lecture he had gotten that morning. 

He actually managed to doze off, and was woken up by Shane sitting next to him. He opened his eyes to the sight of Shane’s naked back, tiny droplets of water still clinging to his skin in places. Ryan made a drowsy, questioning noise, eyeing the water. Would it be too much effort to lick it off?

Shane twisted, just enough to look at Ryan. “Fuck me,” he said softly.

Ryan was too busy sleepily staring at the long line Shane’s spine made in that position to really pay attention to what he was saying. “Mhmm,” he replied absently. 

“Ryan, wake up.”

“I am awa-” he stopped mid-sentence, mind coming to a screeching halt. “Wait, what did you say?”

Shane gave him a teasing smile. “I should tell you that was a one-time offer.”

Ryan sat up a little, suddenly feeling a lot more awake. “Are you serious?”

“About it being a one-time offer? No, probably not. I’m like the McRib, available every few months.”

Ryan’s mouth felt weirdly dry, but he gamely said, “Dude, I love you. But you can’t compare to the McRib.”

Shane narrowed his eyes at him. 

“Seriously though, were you...serious?” Ryan winced at his own words. _Fucking suave, right there_.

“Yes, Ryan, I’m-” Shane paused, then grinned wickedly. “Serious.”

Ryan stared up at Shane, taking in his teasing expression, the way his ridiculously hipster glasses made his eyes slightly bigger, the still wet, swept back hair. 

Fuck, he didn’t think he’d ever wanted someone more.

They had talked about this before. About Ryan fucking Shane. There had even been a time or two when they had experimented with fingers. But, for whatever reason, they had never gotten around to actually _doing it_. There were a lot of possible explanations, a lot of excuses, but when it came down to it, Ryan thought he was just nervous. 

He had never actually been someone’s first before, and wow, that was a lot of pressure. Ryan knew, intellectually, that there were plenty of men that just didn’t like anal sex. But for some reason, he felt like it would all be his fault if he fucked something up, if Shane didn’t enjoy it. 

Every time, it had just been easier to be the one on the bottom, to let Shane fuck him. They both liked it well enough, so why change a good thing? Why deal with that awkwardness if it didn’t work out?

But under the joking and smiling, there was something vulnerable about Shane right now, something in the way he kept meeting Ryan’s eyes that told Ryan this meant more to him than he was letting on. 

Ryan sat up all the way, skimming his fingers up Shane’s arms. “Are you sure?” he asked with no trace of teasing.

Shane nodded, a little wide-eyed. He blinked when Ryan reached up and took off his glasses, but didn’t do anything to stop him. 

“Lay down,” Ryan said softly, shuffling out of the way.

There was a pause, then Shane stretched out on his stomach, tucking his arms under the pillows. His feet dangled off the edge of the bed, because of course they did. 

Ryan had to take a deep breath, which was stupid. They’d had sex many times before. Hell, they’d had some pretty kinky, inventive sex before. This shouldn’t be a big deal. So why did he feel so nervous? 

Alright, no, this couldn’t do. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, gathering himself, then opened them with a determined expression. It was probably a good thing Shane couldn’t see him right now, since he probably would have had a comment.

Ryan took in the way Shane was tensed, muscles in his shoulders and back clearly defined. He was pretty sure it was from anticipation and not nerves, but it wasn’t something that could be allowed to continue. 

“Shane,” he said softly, running his hand up the length of one leg in a gentle caress. “You’ve got to relax, buddy.”

“Buddy,” Shane repeated incredulously, voice muffled by the pillow. After a moment, he let out a long breath, and some of the tension in his body melted away. 

Like this, stretched out naked on _their_ bed, a collection of long, lean lines, Shane was a mouthwatering sight. Ryan followed an impulse, and leaned down to kiss the back of his thigh. Then he did it again, in a slightly different spot, then again. Eventually he had kissed all the way up Shane’s thigh to his ass. Some spark of humor made him nip gently, right on the fleshiest part of one cheek. 

Shane twitched, then grumbled something impolite, making Ryan laugh softly to himself. He sat up, doing an awkward shuffle to lean and stretch over Shane, trying to reach the lube that was in the drawer of his nightstand. The position left his side pressed against Shane’s back, and by the time he had successfully grabbed the lube, he could feel that the man had gone tense again. 

Ryan dropped the bottle on the mattress, then pressed the heel of his hand to Shane’s spine, rubbing down the length. “Shane,” he said in a low, coaxing voice. “Relax, bro.”

There was a quiet snort, then an even quieter moan as Ryan’s hand continued to massage the bony knobs of Shane’s spine.

“Dude.”

An actual laugh.

“Dude bro.”

Shane brought his hand out from under the pillow to push unseeing at Ryan, his laugh even louder. But there was still a tautness to the lines of his body, the way he kept his face pressed to the sheets. 

Ryan licked his lips, suddenly nervous. He had an idea, but actually _executing_ that idea made him more embarrassed than it should have. But he was determined to do this right. 

“Do I have to make it an order?” Ryan asked, forcing himself to sound casual, like they were having a normal conversation. His cheeks burned. God, he was terrible at this. 

He could feel how Shane went still, the steady rise and fall of the torso under his hand pausing. He had the fanciful thought even Shane’s heart must have gone quiet in that brief moment. 

“Please?”

Well, how could he deny such a desperate request? Ryan leaned down until his lips were inches away from Shane’s ears, letting his voice go low. He tried to give his words that hard edge that had always made Shane so compliant in the past, but it was hard to do when he wasn’t angry or afraid for someone’s life. 

_And nope, we’re not thinking about that right now._

“Relax, Shane.”

Shane shuddered, then let out a long breath. Slowly, by increments, every muscle in his body went loose, until he was boneless against the mattress. Judging by the carefully controlled way his ribs were expanding, he was counting his breaths. 

“Good job,” Ryan muttered, hesitantly petting Shane’s hair. The man turned his head into the caress, so maybe he wasn’t doing too badly. 

They had messed around with this before, this weird dominance thing, but Ryan always broke off after a few minutes. So much of their relationship was based off of mutual teasing that every time he opened his mouth, he half expected Shane to make some kind of snarky comment. It made it hard to commit to actually giving an order. 

That, and he was afraid, down in the deepest recesses of his mind, that he liked it too much. When it _worked_ , when Shane followed his commands without hesitation, without a single trace of mockery, it made Ryan feel good. Powerful. Like he held a life in his hands. It was heady and terrifying. So he never pushed it very far. 

Maybe pushing it too far was what they both wanted. 

Ryan forced himself to move, repeating ‘it's just sex’ over and over in his head in order to stop his hands from trembling. He picked up the lube and poured far too much onto his fingers, but he’d rather use the whole bottle than hurt Shane. 

He brushed his fingertips down the cleft of Shane’s ass, making soothing noises when the man startled. He waited until Shane relaxed again, then pushed one finger inside that tight, hot ring of muscle. 

Shane twisted his head, pressing the side of his face to the mattress. Ryan could just barely see him biting his lip. And fuck, wasn’t that a sight? 

One finger wasn’t a new thing for Shane, so Ryan barely allowed him time to adjust before adding a second finger, despite his earlier worries about hurting the man. Ryan told himself he would just spend more time with only the two. That the image in front of him wasn’t going to haunt him forever. 

Shane made a soft, high-pitched noise, almost a keen. Ryan stopped immediately, unsure if that was a sound of pain or pleasure. 

“Talk to me,” he said, only remembering at the last second to turn it into an order instead of a worried plea. “Is this too much?”

“I’m fine,” was the quick, breathless reply. “Please, keep going.”

“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?” Ryan asked, low and dangerous, something about the shaky quality of Shane’s voice dragging him deeper into the mindset. 

An instant shake of the head. 

Ryan sat up on his knees, petting down Shane’s shoulder with his free hand. “You’re doing so good,” he murmured, thrusting his fingers slowly in and out. He bent down just enough to kiss Shane in the middle of the back. It was an awkward angle, but it was worth it for the way the man’s breath stuttered at the simple action. 

“I want to see your hands.”

Shane slowly brought his arms out from under the pillows, his hands resting flat. 

“Ready for more?”

A long pause, then an actual wiggle of hips that almost made Ryan laugh, which really would have broken the serious mood. Then Shane nodded. 

More lube. A third finger. 

Ryan watched hungrily as Shane’s large hands flexed, long fingers twisting into the sheets. His forearms tensed and his shoulder blades stood out from his spine. Every line of his body was perfection. He was beautiful, like a piece of art painted by a Renaissance Master. 

Fuck, he was beginning to understand how he had become so obsessed with Shane. 

“Talk to me,” Ryan rasped out, needing to distract himself. His cock was an incessant, needy weight, but he was afraid that if he touched himself, this would be over far too quickly. “How are you feeling?”

Shane drew in a ragged breath. “Full,” he muttered, the word quiet, obscured by the way his mouth was pressed to the mattress. 

“Shane,” Ryan said when there were no more words, the name a warning.

There was a tiny grunt of acknowledgement, but no answer.

Feeling his heart do a strange little jump, he let his fingers go still. “I told you to do something.”

Shane flexed his arms, then twisted his upper body, one long, lithe move that kept his hips still, but let him look over his shoulder at Ryan. His eyes were dark, his mouth slack in his effort to keep his breathing quiet. He searched Ryan’s face for something. 

Having no real idea what he was doing, Ryan pressed his free hand down between Shane’s shoulder blades, forcing the man to lay flat again. There was a moment of resistance, the two of them fighting for _something_ , then Shane just melted back into the mattress with a little moan. 

“Tell me,” Ryan snapped, a harshness to his voice. 

He could feel Shane actually clench around his fingers, then, for the first time since this had started, the man made a tiny, aborted little thrusting motion with his hips. 

_Fuck, he really gets off on that._

“It hurts,” Shane said abruptly, quietly, almost a moan. “But I want it, I want you so much.” A shuddering breath. “I need you, I need to know I’m yours,” he babbled out, a string of words that barely made coherent sense. 

Ryan couldn’t respond for a second, a part of him so turned on that it felt like it took all of his willpower to not fuck Shane right then and there. Another part of him felt so full of emotion that it made his chest ache. “I’ve got you,” he whispered, rubbing his fingers across the back of Shane’s neck. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Shit,” Shane said, then he started to move, trying to fuck himself on Ryan’s fingers. He couldn’t do much from that position, but his intention was obvious. “I want you to. Hurt me so that I can’t ever forget I had you. I want to always know that you were mine, for however briefly.”

Little alarm bells went off in Ryan’s head at that, but his ability to pay attention to silly things like warnings and self preservation had gone out the window some time ago. “Be still,” he ordered, his frustration clear.

“Yes, sir,” Shane breathed, going so completely still that he might have been a statue. And damn if that didn’t make Ryan’s dick twitch. 

God, it was like Shane was training him to be his fucking leader, or master or fuck, he didn’t even know. He had thought handcuffing Shane to the bed that one time had been kinky, but something about this, about how quickly Shane was responding to him, was so much more than that could have ever been. 

A small, cruel part of Ryan wanted to know just how far he could go before Shane said to stop. It was the same part of him that had nearly let Shane kill Jess, that held no remorse for Douglas’ death.

It was the same, carefully hidden part of himself that was glad that Taylor had died to a fucking _axe_. 

Before, he had been slow and methodical in his movements, but now Ryan started scissoring his fingers, then thrusting, then just stroking. There was no pattern, and that seemed to drive Shane wild. He outright whimpered, then when Ryan finally brushed across his prostate, he actually yelped. 

“Fuck,” Shane swore and Ryan smirked, taking in how the man was twitching, desperate to move but just as desperate to follow Ryan’s order and stay still. “Was that-?”

“Yes,” Ryan replied, sure his smirk could be heard. He knew what Shane was going through right now, that confusion over how _intense_ it could be. But every man was different, so curiosity made him ask, “Good?”

“I...I don’t know,” Shane said, his voice strained. 

So Ryan did it again. 

Another whimper, this one confused. “‘S weird. Not bad. Just...weird.”

Ryan scratched the fingers of his free hand across Shane’s scalp, then started petting him like a dog. “You’re doing so well, big guy.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

_Fuck, fuck, fuck, that shouldn’t be hot, fuck._

What the hell had happened to him? He would have never been turned on by that a year ago. _Fuck_. Ryan withdrew his fingers, suddenly losing all patience. “Are you ready?”

“Yes,” Shane practically hissed in his haste to answer, his hands twisting in the sheets. 

Ryan poured so much lube onto his hand that it dripped onto the bed, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about the mess. He bit back a groan at how good it felt to slick up his own cock. Shit, he’d have to be careful or he wouldn’t last long. 

“On your knees,” he ordered, impatience making the words come out harsher than intended. But Shane brought his knees up under himself in a scramble of too long legs. Ryan had to coax him into spreading his legs and lowering his body, because damn it, even like this the man was too tall. Ryan took one precious second to just admire the view in front of him, then took a deep breath, and pushed inside. 

He paused as soon as the head of his cock was past that tight, _tight_ ring, forcing himself to give Shane time to adjust. Shane was motionless, but his back was one continuous line of tensed muscles. 

“Shane?”

The man let out a shuddering breath, then _he_ was the one to move, barely an inch, but it was enough to make Ryan grab his hips, forcing him to stop. 

“Fuck, Shane, _be still_ ,” Ryan snapped. He had to bite his own lip, focusing on the pain to stop himself from just fucking into the warm body under him. 

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity but was probably more like a minute, Ryan started to work himself in and out, tiny little thrusts drawing quiet breathy moans out of Shane. Ryan really wished that pain and pleasure noises didn’t sound so damned similar, because he really couldn’t tell if he was hurting the man or not.

And something told him that Shane would lie either way. 

Then Shane just _relaxed_ , his arms slowly folding under him. “Yes,” he said inanely, voice rough and low. “Yes, please, more.”

The next few minutes could have been a dream as Ryan sunk into a hazy state, his memory giving him nothing but surreal snapshots. It was the only way he could make himself last any longer. The sound of Shane’s moan mixing with his own groans, the obscene noises of their bodies coming together. The sight of beads of sweat soaking into the hair at the nape of Shane’s neck, the way his own forearms flexed as he clutched too hard at slim hips. The dip of the small of Shane’s back, and the marks left behind by his thumbs. The way his cock disappeared into Shane’s body. 

And the _warmth_ , a scorching heat that was somehow more memorable than the tightness or even the way Shane was muttering ‘yes’ and ‘please’ over and over again. Ryan draped himself over Shane’s back, suddenly wanting to get his mouth on him. He nipped, kisses that were more like bites, just to raise bruises on that pale skin. Shane seemed to love that, judging by the way he kept moaning under him. 

Ryan came to the abrupt realization that he _needed_ to see Shane’s face. “Shane,” he said, voice a dark rumble. “Do you think you could ride me?”

A moment of nothing but strained panting, then a fervent, “ _Yes_.”

The slow slide of Ryan pulling out made them moan in unison, then both moved in a scramble of uncoordinated limbs, neither of them willing to entirely stop touching the other. Shane was soon straddling Ryan, a manic, needy expression on his face. 

Ryan was too greedy for the press of skin to lay down all the way, his torso curled forward so that he could kiss Shane so hard that their lips pinched against teeth. Shane made a hungry noise, fumbling for Ryan’s cock. “Go slow,” Ryan warned, a little growl to his words, before going back for another wet, sloppy kiss. 

Their mouths broke apart, as Shane slowly sank down onto him, both of them gasping. Ryan could feel Shane’s legs trembling, how the man had to brace himself on Ryan’s shoulders. In steady tandem with Shane, Ryan fell back onto the bed, relishing the way the man’s weight felt on top of him. Shane was frankly just too tall for this position, but they were both determined to make it work. Ryan stretched and Shane curled his back until they were able to kiss again, a messy meeting of mouths.

Ryan threaded his fingers through still damp, messy hair, and pulled, directing Shane away from the desperate kiss so that Ryan could make out the entirety of that goofy, lovable, _perfect_ face. 

Shane’s mouth was open as he panted, his eyes nearly black, the corners crinkling in winces of concentration with each little movement as he rocked his hips. He was beautiful. Ryan felt some burning, tender emotion swell up in him, and he said without thinking, “Thank you for saving me.”

His answer was a startled whisper of his name and widening eyes.

Slowly, almost languid, Ryan started stroking Shane’s woefully neglected cock. Shane choked on a breath, his movements stuttering to a halt. So Ryan planted his feet and pushed up with his hips, shallow thrusts that reminded both of them of just how close they were. 

“You did such a good job.”

Those wonderful, beautiful, dark eyes focused on him with an intensity that it should have been terrifying. Ryan reveled in it. “You don’t...mind? That I killed him?” Shane sounded wrecked and broken, his voice wavering in disbelief.

“You _saved me_ ,” Ryan said, adding a little twist to the ends of his strokes. At this point, Shane was completely still, but Ryan had no problem with doing most of the work right now. He thrust up harder, punctuating his statement. 

A surprised, almost confused moan. 

Ryan knew just what to say, the words slipping past his lips on a single, dark urge. 

“Thank you for killing him.”

There should have been shock, or a sense of hesitation, or _something_ to indicate just how fucked up this was. But Ryan only felt a fierce satisfaction when Shane came with a strangled grunt that sounded punched out of him. 

He expected Shane to slump forward afterwards, or even try to return to riding him in an effort to give him his own orgasm. Instead, Shane practically flung himself forward, uncaring of the come now smearing between them. He kissed Ryan like he was trying to devour the mouth under his, a harsh battle of teeth and tongue. 

“Bite me,” Shane whispered against Ryan’s lips. “Break skin, make me bleed,” he pleaded, _begged_. “Make it scar, please.”

Normally, Ryan would have refused. He wouldn’t have even entertained the thought. Biting that hard was dangerous, extremely painful, and really not a turn on. Even five minutes ago, he would have hesitated. But now, still inside of Shane, with that wrecked voice begging so prettily, the idea was more than appealing. 

That savage, dark part of him had taken over completely, and it exalted over the idea of marking Shane like that, claiming him permanently. 

Ryan hands clamped down on Shane’s hips, holding him still so that he could thrust up into that tight, exquisite heat. Then he stretched up. And bit down on Shane’s shoulder. 

Even now, one moment away from coming and feeling like some kind of animal, he would have stopped instantly if Shane had made even the smallest indication of it being too much. But Shane rocked forward, pressing himself closer, into Ryan’s teeth. 

It was hard, more difficult than he would have thought. Human teeth were not made for piercing skin and his jaw ached after only a few seconds. But Shane kept pushing his shoulder towards him, whimpering and gasping. He twisted his head and he could feel skin rip under his teeth, than the salty, coppery taste of blood filled his mouth. 

Shane’s cry of pain should not have sounded so triumphant. The man kissed him frantically, licking into Ryan’s mouth like he was trying to reach every drop of his own blood that had spilled inside. 

The knowledge of what he had just done and Shane’s wild movements were too much. Too perfect. He came inside that wonderful heat with a loud groan, head thrown back in abandon. 

It took him a long time to come down from that high. 

Eventually, their mutual harsh panting calmed down, and Shane gingerly rolled off, making a surprised little noise when Ryan’s cock came out of him. Ryan could feel sweat and lube and come, drying on his body in various patches. It was gross and he didn’t even care. He rolled his head to look at Shane. And caught sight of a drop of blood, making its way towards the sheets.

That snapped Ryan back into awareness, and nervous concern instantly flooded him. “Fuck,” he whispered, sitting up and reaching towards Shane. “I’m so sorry, are you okay? That had to hurt-”

He was quieted by the sweetest, most gentle kiss he had ever experienced from Shane. It was only slightly marred by the taste of blood. 

“I’m fine,” Shane said, his expression on the verge of blissed out. 

“We need to get that clean-”

“Ryan,” Shane interrupted. “I’m wonderful. _Thank you_.”

He looked serene. Content. 

Ryan let his worries drift away. 

\--------------------------------------------

The bruises on Ryan’s face eventually faded, until they were just dark shadows under his skin by the time he was allowed to go back to work. 

There had been an awkwardly hilarious moment when they had been buying groceries and the bruises were at their absolute worst technicolor glory. A woman had taken Ryan aside to ask him if he was alright, glaring at an oblivious Shane the entire time. Ryan had been torn between amusement and indignation, because did she not see his arms? It wasn’t until later that he realized people looked at them and saw a couple. That was. Well. It was nice. Although people assuming Shane was abusive was so annoying that Ryan spent the next five days holed up in the apartment. 

The bite on Shane’s shoulder scarred, a jagged imprint of Ryan’s teeth. 

Once cleaned, it actually hadn’t been as bad as he had feared, so he was surprised that it scarred. He suspected that Shane had done something to make it worse, to make the mark permanent. 

Whenever Ryan caught a glimpse of it, he felt a faint, sick guilt. But he had seen Shane rub his shoulder more than once, with a small, content smile. Ryan knew there was something wrong about that, something unhealthy, but it didn’t seem worth it to bring it up. 

The night before Ryan was scheduled to go back to work, Shane offhandedly said, “You have three weeks of paid vacation. We should take a week off soon. Go on a small vacation together.”

Ryan sighed. “How the hell do you know how much vacation I have, you creep?”

A dismissive wave of the hand. “You left your mail on the table.”

“You know opening other people’s mail is a federal offense. You are like, the worst cop.”

“I didn’t read the name, thought it was mine,” Shane blatantly lied with such a teasing grin that it just made Ryan roll his eyes. “I’m serious, though. The two of us should go on a little holiday.”

Ryan groaned, not entirely hiding his smile. “With you? That sounds like torture.”

“Sometimes the things you say hurt me,” Shane replied with a straight face before his own smile broke out. 

“Good,” Ryan said with a laugh. Then he sighed fondly, thinking about the idea. “You know what? Sure. Let’s do it.”

Not that scheduling an actual vacation for two detectives, both of whom were skating on thin ice with their superiors, was particularly easy. It required some begging, calling in a few favors, and a few shift swaps, but they were able to get a week off in two months. 

The entire time, Ryan kept an eye out for the death of Murray.

He watched the ever changing list of missing persons like a hawk and became downright obsessive about checking for new homicides. At any point that someone was killed with something that even resembled an axe, he used his connections to research into the case. Luckily, that only happened a couple of times, or he would have gone insane. 

With each day that went by with Murray alive and healthy, Ryan relaxed a tiny bit more. The man was still a conniving, murdering, drug-dealing bastard, but his continued existence was a comfort. It was an odd way to feel about a criminal. But the longer Murray stayed alive, the easier it was to convince himself that Shane was innocent. He tried not to remember thanking Shane for killing someone, and focused on the fact that Murray was still around. 

Since they were fast approaching a year of dating each other, he was _really_ glad that Shane was just weird and not a murderer. It occasionally occurred to him that they might have moved a little fast.

Ryan tried to get Shane to reveal what his vacation plans for the two of them were, but the man was staying annoyingly quiet about it. All he would say is that they wouldn’t be leaving the state. Since California was huge, that didn’t really narrow the options down. 

Their last week of work before their mysterious holiday, Ryan came home to Shane whispering furiously into his phone. Shane grimaced, shrugging a little in apology as he went into their bedroom and shut the door. Ryan didn’t think much about it, since work calls could be pretty annoying and Shane probably just didn’t want to bother him while he was arguing with some other department. 

Then Shane’s phone buzzed across the kitchen table, lighting up as he got a text message. 

Ryan stared. Blinked. 

The phone on the table _was_ Shane’s. A beat up old iPhone that probably should have been upgraded two years ago. Then where the hell had he gotten a second phone? And why?

He gingerly picked up the phone, then held it out to Shane just as he walked back into the room. “You got a text. On your phone. You have two now?”

Since the second one was still in Shane’s hand, there was no hiding it, though Ryan could tell that Shane wanted to. The man made a little humming noise, then said, “Yeah, I got a second one for work.”

Ryan felt like his heart sank into his stomach. 

“Did you know that you hum before you lie about something big?”

He had never seen Shane’s expression shut down so quickly. 

“Ryan-”

“Shane,” Ryan said harshly, turning to anger in place of nerves. “Don’t lie to me.”

Shane’s jaw clenched, like he was physically biting back whatever words he had wanted to say. After a second, he looked down, and said to the floor, “It’s a surprise. That’s all.”

God, he really wanted to believe him. 

“A good surprise?”

“I hope so.”

Against his better judgement, Ryan relaxed. “You are really shitty at hiding things from me.”

Shane’s look turned soft, a little self-deprecating. “I know. I can’t keep anything from you for long.”

They didn’t say anything else about it for the rest of the night. But when he was sure Shane was asleep, Ryan slipped from the bed and searched until he found the second phone. It was brand new and not an iPhone, a departure for Shane’s hipster ass. It was also locked, and Ryan spent a good ten minutes just trying to figure out the four digit code. 

Then, feeling a little foolish, he put in his own birthday. 

It unlocked. 

_Fuck, that sentimental idiot._

There was nothing on the phone. No contacts, no call history or text messages. There wasn’t even anything in the internet search history. Ryan sighed, frustrated, then sent himself a text message. He deleted it from both phones, but kept the contact info. 

Something told him he’d want to know the number of this mystery phone.

He put it back where he had found it, then returned to the bed. 

Shane was curled on his side, one leg out from under the sheets and hanging off the edge of the mattress. Ryan had teased him more than once that if monsters under the bed were real, he was going to be the first to be eaten. That had sparked one of their more memorable debates. 

One hand was flung into the space left by Ryan, as if he had reached for him even in sleep. 

Not for the first time, the thought so common that it had become a familiar ritual, Ryan fervently hoped that he wasn’t wrong about Shane.  
\------------------

 

Ryan was woken up on the first day of their vacation by an _intensely_ awake Shane. 

“Motherfucker,” he rasped, throat dry from sleep. “I take days off, I get to sleep in. That’s how it works. 

His answer was a pair of his own boxer briefs hitting him in the face. 

“Take a shower and get dressed. I made breakfast, but I’ll eat it all if you’re not out in fifteen minutes.”

“Are you fucking high?” Ryan grumbled, dragging his underwear off his face. “I’ve seen crack addicts that were less energetic. 

He wasn’t prepared for the sudden, fierce kiss, though it went a long ways towards waking him up. Shane pulled back and made a face. “Brush your teeth.”

“You’re the one that kissed me, dick!”

Ryan managed to drag himself into the shower, then dressed in a T-shirt and shorts, because damn it, it was his vacation. Long pants and long-sleeved shirts were forbidden for the week. 

He was shocked to see that Shane was also wearing shorts, because he hadn’t even known the man owned a pair. Shane was wearing some god awful aloha shirt as well, with sunglasses clipped to the front. The less said about that outfit, the better. 

“So what are we doing today?” Ryan asked, snagging a piece of bacon off Shane’s plate. 

The man didn’t even protest the theft. He just smiled wide. “You’ll see.”

The answer was Knott’s Berry Farm and Ryan suddenly was just as energetic as Shane. “I haven’t been here in years!” he exclaimed, nearly tripping in his haste to get out of the car. 

The day was as close to perfect as it could have been. They ate way too much, went on too many rides, and spent so long in the sun that Shane burned on the nose. Of course Ryan had to tease him about that.

Ryan actually kissed Shane in public when the second day turned out to be a trip to the Queen Mary. He was so touched, so giddy that Shane had remembered his story about his ghost encounter as a teenager, that all of his worries about being with a man in public simply disappeared. 

Shane had looked so shocked by the kiss that Ryan did it again. Just because he could. 

The third day was Universal Studios and the fourth was _tickets to a Lakers game_. 

Somehow Shane had gotten incredibly great tickets to a conference finals game and Ryan could have proposed on the spot. It wasn't exactly the playoffs, and their seats weren’t exactly courtside, but it was damn close and Ryan resolutely didn’t think about how expensive they must have been. 

As an added bonus, he got to see Shane’s reaction at no longer being the tallest person in the building, which was hilarious. Through pure happenstance, they ended up walking right past a new backup player after the game had finished. Watching Shane have to look _up_ was a moment Ryan was going to treasure forever. 

By that point, Ryan was so contentedly tired that he started to get a little worried. They made it home, then he stopped Shane at the door. 

“Shane, not that I’m complaining, but-” Ryan hesitated, not really sure what to say. “Why? Why are you doing all of this? Even one of these days would have been more than enough for a vacation. Is-is something wrong?” His eyes widened at a sudden thought. “You’re not like, sick are you?”

Shane tilted his head, smiling a little. “No, I’m not sick. Nothing is wrong.”

“Are you sure? Did you like, get fired or something? You’re an illegal alien about to be deported? You're an _actual_ alien and you have to go back to your home planet soon?”

“Yes,” Shane said, snickering. He raised his eyebrows in a mock-serious look. “We’re going to blow up the Earth, so I thought I’d take you to some amusement parks to make up for it.”

Ryan shook his head, laughing. “Shut up, Shane. You’re a dork.”

“I just wanted to do something for you, Ryan. I actually do have the ability to be nice.

“I still think this is part of some nefarious plan,” Ryan replied, resting his hands on Shane’s hips. An abrupt, heart-stopping, butterfly-inducing thought came to him. “You’re not going to propose, are you?”

Shane’s mouth opened, actual surprise making him stutter. “I-No. You, I mean. Wait.” He shook his head, then stared down at Ryan. A contemplative expression softened his features. “Do you want me to?”

Ryan felt like his fingers were going numb. A sweet, tense, adrenaline made him the one to trip over his words this time. “I met you last year, isn’t that going a little fast?”

“Our entire relationship is the very definition of ‘too fast’,” Shane said with a fond little smirk. “And you didn’t say no.”

Feeling the back of his neck go hot, Ryan looked away. “You’re a dick.”

That got him a laughing, gentle kiss. 

The fifth day was a day of well-earned nothing. They lounged around in sweats and didn’t step foot outside the apartment. 

The sixth day was Disneyland just so Ryan could go on his favorite rides, and then a dinner at a fancy restaurant that was probably going to kick them out, but he had agreed to go in a moment of weakness. 

They were driving back from Disneyland, Ryan still filled with too much giddy energy, when they witnessed a horrible accident right in front of their eyes. Ryan slammed on the brakes, watching in horror as a truck ran a light and crashed into a tiny Toyota that crumbled like a tin can. Both vehicles slid to a halt in a scream of tires and stressed metal. Glass glittered all over the pavement.

Instinct took control and Ryan pulled over, then leapt out of the car, running towards the wreck. He heard Shane shout his name, and he called over his shoulder, “Call an ambulance, then check the truck, I’ve got the car!”

Ryan was relieved to see that no one had been in the passenger side of the car, but he could hear a child screaming, and that made his blood run cold. He scrambled towards the driver’s side door, seeing a woman moaning in pain behind the wheel. He jerked open the door, then paused at the sight in front of him. There was blood everywhere, and he hoped it was just from a bleeding head wound and not something more serious. In the back seat was a young girl strapped into a car seat, screaming at the top of her lungs. She looked unhurt, thank God.

“Katy,” the woman said suddenly, her eyes popping open. She started to struggle, trying to undo her seat belt with a hand that was obviously broken. 

“Ma’am, ma’am you have to be still,” Ryan said, trying to make his voice gentle but firm. He reached in, stopping the woman’s movements. “I’m an officer, I have some first aid training. There’s an ambulance on the way, you just need to stay calm.”

He actually barely remembered his training, but he did remember enough to know that head wounds could be fatal. She looked coherent, but moving too much had the potential of being disastrous if there was something wrong that he couldn’t see. The key thing was keeping her calm until real professionals could get to her. 

She blinked a few times, her gaze still unfocused, but she did stop struggling. “My daughter-”

“I’ve got her,” Ryan promised. “You need to keep your head still. Don’t move.” He stepped away as soon as he was sure she wasn’t going to move any more, then opened the back door. The girl had stopped screaming when she heard her mother’s voice, but she was crying, great hiccuping sobs. Ryan hesitated, then leaned forward, lowering his voice. 

“Hey, Katy, right?”

The girl stared up at him in fear, but she nodded. “Do you hurt anywhere? Any pain?”

She shook her head, making Ryan sigh in relief. “I’m going to take you out of the car now, okay?”

“Mommy-”

“I’ll get you out of here so you can see your mom, okay?”

He could see the girl swallow, then nod. “You’re a brave girl,” he said soothingly, reaching in to unbuckle her from the car seat. He picked her up, then sat her on her feet, keeping a firm hold on her hand. She ignored his hold, turning immediately towards her mother. 

The mother had followed his instruction and hadn’t moved her head, but her unbroken left hand reached out for her daughter. “Katy, are you okay?” She asked in a slur. That wasn’t a good sign. The distant sound of ambulance sirens was Godsend at that point. 

Ryan looked around, knowing there wasn’t much more he could do while he had to keep track of a little girl. Through the broken windows of the car, he could see that Shane had pulled the driver of the truck onto the road. It looked like he was doing chest compressions, which made Ryan’s gut twist in fear and sympathy. If Shane was doing it right, the man was going to have broken ribs. 

The ambulance arriving, followed shortly by a squad car, was the cue for a whirl of activity to happen around them. Ryan couldn’t move much, since the little girl, Katy, had latched onto him like a burr. He actually ended up carrying her while the paramedics got her mother out of the car 

Eventually the paramedics were able to coax the girl into the ambulance with her mother, who probably only had a concussion, but needed to be checked anyways. It made a weight lift off Ryan’s shoulders. 

Feeling abruptly exhausted, he made his way over to Shane, who had been standing at the sidelines of the action for sometime. 

“What happened?” Ryan asked, his voice tired and strained.

“Guy had a heart attack and lost control of his vehicle,” Shane said. There was dirt and oil staining his pants from where he had kneeled on the road, and his hands were covered in tiny scratches from the bits of wreckage. Safety glass was still glass, and it could cut if a person wasn’t careful. “EMT thinks he’ll make it, though.”

“Because you started chest compressions?”

Shane frowned, shaking his head. “Doubt I did anything to help.”

“Shane-”

The man turned towards him abruptly, a weird expression on his face. “I never know how you’re going to react.”

“Uh, what?”

“I-” Shane stopped, ran a dirty hand through his hair, then sighed. “I would have kept driving. I would have cared more about the dinner reservations than the fact that there could have been three people dying. I’m not like you.”

Ryan had absolutely no idea where this was coming from. “Shane, what are you talking about? You just saved a man’s life. Focus on that.”

“I did it because you told me to, Ryan,” Shane said, meeting his eyes with a dark gaze. “On my own, I probably wouldn’t have even called an ambulance.”

“You don’t know that, big guy,” Ryan tried to say soothingly, thinking that maybe Shane was just having a weird reaction to the adrenaline crash. “You’re a police officer, a detective, you would have done the right thing.”

“No, Ryan, I wouldn’t have.”

“Shane-”

Ignoring the fact that they were standing on the side of a busy road, amongst wrecked vehicles and a handful of cops, Shane reached towards him, gripping his upper arm. He ducked down, bringing himself closer to Ryan’s height. 

“You’re a good person, Ryan. You’re, fuck, you’re too good for this world. You’re perfect and I would do anything to protect you,” Shane said with a fierce, manic determination. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to protect you from me, someday.”

Ryan scowled, trying to hide how confused and worried this was making him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Shane sighed, a sad sound that was somehow more heart-wrenching than hearing a little girl screaming for her mother. He dropped his hand, putting it in his pocket. He very obviously fiddled with something, turning it over and over in his fingers, then shook his head. “Let’s go home.”

“Shane-”

There was a fleeting kiss to the top of his head, then Shane turned to walk towards Ryan’s car. But not before whispering, “You have no idea how much I love you.”

\-----------------------------

Ryan could dimly hear Shane moving around the apartment, but his inner clock told him it was still too early for him to wake up, so he snuggled back into the pillow. He was vaguely aware that Shane stood in the doorway for a few minutes, just watching him, but that wasn’t the weirdest thing the man had ever done, so he ignored it in favor of dozing. 

“Hey,” Shane said softly, gently shaking Ryan’s shoulder. Ryan blearily opened his eyes and made a little questioning noise. “I got a call, I’ve got to go into work early.”

“‘Kay,” Ryan mumbled, smiling sleepily at him. “Love you.”

Shane smiled, something off about the expression. Then he leaned down and kissed Ryan, a brush of lips, a hint of a tongue. “I love you, Ryan.”

“See you at work.” Ryan was already on his way back to sleep, so he mumbled the words. 

“Yeah. See you.”

Ryan didn’t think anything about Shane leaving early. It had happened before and sometimes he was the one to leave early. If they got an urgent call about an active case, they went into work. That’s how it was. 

He went into work at his usual time, nodding towards Mary and Evans on his way into the station building and fighting back a yawn. He noticed that Shane’s desk was empty, but shrugged it off. 

“Hey Bergara, did you hear about Murray?”

Ryan had just sat down, eyeing an envelope that had been tucked under his keyboard, but he looked up instantly at the words. He tried desperately to hide the way his breath caught in his throat. “Uh no, what about him?”

Yang lowered his voice, like he was sharing gossip. “Someone found his body in his living room. He was missing his head. Weirdest fucking thing. I hope this whole decapitating trend doesn’t catch on.”

“Shit,” Ryan breathed, feeling the blood drain from his face. It took all of his willpower not to look at Shane’s desk. 

Yang grimaced. “Right, forgot about the whole...head in a box thing. Well, thought you should know. We weren’t able to prosecute the bastard, but somebody finally got to him.”

Ryan nodded absently, hoping that his reaction would be chalked up to being reminded about Taylor’s head. He waited until Yang had walked away, then he leaned back in his chair, waving to catch Hayes attention. 

“Hey Justin,” he said as casually as he could. “Have you seen Shane?”

Hayes frowned, then shrugged. “I don’t think so. He didn’t come in with you?”

“Ah no, he had to go check a scene.”

He waited a few minutes, going through the motions of turning on his computer, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the plain white envelope in front of him. 

There was something in it. Something small, a lump in the paper. 

Ryan reached for it, his hand shaking. It wasn’t sealed and there was no postmark. It had just been left there. He slowly lifted the flap, then peered inside. 

There was a scrap of paper. And a thin silver ring. 

Following some kind of instinct, he took the ring out of the envelope, then slipped it onto his ring finger. It fit perfectly. Because of course it would. 

Because Shane knew everything about him. 

Swallowing hard, Ryan read the little scrap of paper. It simply said ‘Check your email’ in slanted, messy handwriting. 

He thought he was going to throw up, but he opened his email, scanning through everything he hadn’t opened. Right near the top was one from a random string of numbers. Nothing in the subject line. 

He clicked. 

_Ryan_

_I knew you weren’t ready. But I was greedy. I fell into the trap of wanting to be known. In the end, I wasn’t any smarter than the rest of them, was I?_

_I wanted you to know me and now you do. I’m sorry._

_I love you._

_Your lover_

Ryan felt...calm. Like all of his emotions were behind a wall. 

He read the email again. And again. He memorized every line. 

His fingers were steady when he reached for the phone and called Shane. It rang. And rang. Clicked over to voicemail. He called again. It rang to voicemail. 

Then, he scrolled down his contacts. Found the one labeled ‘Second Phone’. 

It rang twice before going to voicemail. That meant someone had dismissed the call. Shane had the phone. 

The default voicemail message droned on in his ear. There was the beep, and he opened his mouth, then paused. He didn’t know what to say. 

He wanted to say everything. Nothing. 

Ryan looked down. The silver ring gleamed on his finger. 

He let out a long breath. 

“I would have said yes.”

He hung up. Stared unseeing at his computer.

“Hey, Bergara, you alright?”

Ryan forced his eyes up, smiling woodenly at Hayes. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

He read the email once more. 

Deleted it. 

“I’m fine.”


	16. Interlude-Hunt For You

He watched. 

For ten _boring, interminable_ -long years, he watched. 

It was a challenge, at first. He was declared missing after only twenty-four hours. A detective disappearing that had ties to three different serial killer cases over the course of his career was worth hitting the national news. His face was plastered everywhere for a couple of weeks, speculation running rampant on if he had been abducted or was an ironic victim of homicide.

A few put forth the theory that he was guilty of everything he had been accused of and had taken the opportunity to run. 

He was a fan of those news outlets. 

It meant that he had to leave the state entirely. He was forced to scan for mentions of Ryan in newspapers and the nightly news, just to be sure that the man was still functioning. Worry over another person’s well-being was still an odd emotion for him to experience. It was fascinating, but he wasn't sure he liked it. 

His abandoned car was found in a small forest, just enough of his blood found on the seats to imply that he had been wounded, if not killed. 

The scar from where he had cut himself too deep on the arm never faded away. It wasn’t the first time one of his excessively sharp knives had cut too deep. 

Eventually, the search was called off and he was able to move more freely. The pattern of tracking Ryan through scope, good old-fashioned social media stalking, and less than legal means became a habit that he never really dropped. 

He kept busy with his own _fucking apathetic, banal_ -new life, however. He wasn’t _obsessive_ about watching Ryan. Entire months would pass before he saw him, sometimes. 

But he always returned. Admittedly, a part of it was out of boredom. His new career had been interesting at first. Calculating trajectories, angles, and wind resistance on the fly was a mental challenge within the moment. But so much of his work involved sitting in one place for hours at a time that he thought he was going to go crazy. 

Crazier than he already was, anyways. 

Two years after his disappearance, his family declared him legally dead. They had a funeral in his hometown. He went to it, because how many people could say they had been to their own funeral? 

He watched through a scope as a rental car pulled up to the cemetery. He wasn’t surprised to see Ryan. He was reluctantly touched when Hayes and Rubin got out of the car as well. 

Some trace of emotion, a twisted longing, made it feel like there was something lodged in his throat when he watched his own mother greet Ryan like they knew each other. There was a faint thrill of pride when Ryan stood through the entire service and didn’t shed a single tear. He would occasionally glance around the people, as if searching for someone. 

Ryan knew he was there. It couldn’t compare to actually being in his presence, but it was a balm to the _loss, ache_ \- loneliness. 

A year after his funeral, Ryan moved to Chicago. 

That was flattering. 

Two years into working with the CPD, Ryan met someone.  
\----------------------

He had never dared to get so close before. 

Over the years, Ryan had grown more aware of his surroundings, constantly alert to the point that it bordered on paranoia. It often made it impossible for him to get close enough to use his own two eyes. But Ryan was distracted now. 

It was a beautiful day in a beautiful park. The sun beat down, giving everything a golden sheen. The sounds of children playing, dogs barking, and birds singing drifted on the faint breeze. He sat on a park bench, his phone in his hands as if he was scrolling through texts. All of his attention was on the domestic scene unfolding in front of him, however. 

Ryan was stunning. Beautiful. _Perfection_. The sun suited him, making him glow in it’s warm light. He was grinning, brilliant white teeth flashing in a carefree smile. And he was smiling at another man. 

Omar Davis, a blood spatter analyst and a widower with a teenage daughter. Tall, thin, older than Ryan by seven years. 

He took a kind of juvenile, masculine satisfaction in knowing that he was taller than the man. 

There was nothing criminal or even suspect in Davis’ history. An innocent, however much it made him want to grit his teeth to admit. Davis was off limits. 

And now the man was engaged to Ryan, after a steady two years of careful dating that had been glimpsed through social media pictures and comments. Through illicitly snapped photographs of romantic outings and dinner dates.

A big white dog, more fur than animal, came running up to the two men, followed by Davis’ daughter. All three laughed as the dog tried to jump into Ryan’s lap, the sound a thin echo across the space that separated them from him. 

He had never felt so many emotions at once. Disappointment that Ryan, a man who had captured his fascination so handily, could want something so _mundane_. A family. The stereotypical American dream. There was even a fucking dog. But under that disappointment was a roiling jealousy that he could have never provided such a thing. Even the concept was laughable. 

Yet, there was bitter contentment as well. If _he_ couldn’t make Ryan happy, it was good that someone was. 

The phone in his hand buzzed, dragging his gaze away from the _dull, tedious_ -charming family scene. He scowled, swiping his thumb across the screen.

“Jen.”

“Hey Tin-”

“Don't you fucking dare,” he interrupted, striving to keep his voice low. God, he hated that name. 

Jen laughed merrily, not intimidated by him in the slightest. She was one of the few that weren’t scared of him, anymore. “Alright, Shane. I’ve got a job for you.”

“Where?”

“Northern Brazil,” she said. He could hear her mocking smile. 

He returned his attention back towards Ryan and his _family_. He sighed. “You know I hate jungles.”

“Double your usual rate.”

Ryan leaned forward to pet the dog, something falling out of his shirt, dangling on a chain. It glinted in the light. 

A ring. His ring.

Davis’ ring was on Ryan’s finger. But _his_ was closer to Ryan’s heart. He liked the symbolism.

“I’ll grab a plane tomorrow.”

“Might be better to leave now-”

He hung up. Leaned back on the bench. Watched until the family left. 

Not once did Ryan look his way. 

\-------------------

Ryan’s fiance was diagnosed with cancer. 

The man died quickly, and by all accounts that he could find, with quiet dignity. He made his way back to Chicago that very night. If he had believed in any kind of higher power, he would have thought Davis' death was some kind of sign. 

It was the second time he watched Ryan attend the funeral of a lover. 

Ryan looked old. Too old for his thirty-eight years. Worn down. He trailed Ryan in a rental car for a few days, just to observe him. At one point, Ryan attended _his_ grave and even left flowers. 

Some pathetic urge made him take the flowers back to his hotel room. 

An even more pathetic urge made him set up a security camera next to his gravestone. They had become so small, so advanced over the years, that all he had to do was hide it in some flowers placed on a neighboring grave and connect it to his phone. That was it. 

It only took a few days for him to get a notice on his phone. He was shocked when he saw that it was actually Ryan, and not some other mourner walking past, that had tripped the alarm. He turned off the hotel room’s TV, then turned the volume on his phone all the way up, _aching_ -desperate to hear Ryan’s voice. 

Ryan just stood there for a long time, staring at his gravestone. 

“Don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with the local news lately,” Ryan said, a faint self-mocking smirk crossing his face. 

God, he sounded _perfect, wonderful_ -tired.

“There’s some douchebag that’s been raping and killing women, then hanging their bodies off bridges. We’ve managed to get close a time or two, but now he’s started directing his creepy little messages towards me.” Ryan sighed, then laughed. It verged on a sob. “I’m fucking catnip for serial killers, apparently. And you want to know the really fucked up thing?”

Ryan drug his hand through his hair, then stuffed it into the pockets of his coat. He took a deep breath, then continued in a low tone. “This entire time I’ve been working on this case, I keep thinking things like ‘Shane wasn’t this messy.’ ‘Shane actually put some effort into it.’ ‘Shane was _good_ at this.’ I cant-” his voice cracked, but he kept going. “I can’t fucking believe that I’m sitting here critiquing one serial killer because _mine_ was better. _Mine_ never got caught. I’m supposed to miss you because you were my boyfriend, not because I liked your flare for homicide.”

A long shaking breath. “You know I was in therapy for five years? Didn’t do any fucking good because I had to lie the entire time. I couldn’t get over you because I couldn’t tell the truth. I couldn’t tell them that I was protecting you.” 

Ryan reached up with one hand, pressing his palm flat against his chest. Right where a ring on a chain would lie. “I...I deserve this, don’t I? A dead fiance and a psycho nutjob trying to kill me because I let you go nine years ago. It’s fucking karma, isn’t it?”

There was a moment of silence. Then Ryan turned and looked directly at the hidden camera. “I don’t know why I left flowers on your gravestone. I guess it seemed appropriate, after doing the same for Omar. But then I realized it was stupid, wasn’t it? You’re not even dead. So I came back to take the damn flowers away. But they were already gone. Because you’ve always been a sentimental idiot.”

Ryan smiled. It was a beautifully tragic expression. Like shattered stained glass. Eye-catching, scintillating, but with edges that would cut. “I still love you. You killed so many people, and I still miss you. You broke me, Shane.”

He watched, ignoring the tears running down his cheek, as Ryan turned and walked away. 

Then he saved the video file to his phone. 

And started planning. 

Because no second rate, sloppy serial killer was going to lay a hand on what was _his_.  
\----------------------------------------------

This was the fifth day of watching Ryan leave work. 

After trailing Ryan for a couple of days, he had come to the conclusion that the ten minutes it took for the man to leave his office and make his way up the parking garage where he always parked was the most vulnerable part of Ryan’s day. 

It hadn’t taken long for him to find a good vantage point in a neighboring building that was, conveniently, a hotel. 

He had never been so focused during a job. 

His eye never left the scope, his finger never strayed from the trigger. He tracked Ryan down the dark street, then held his breath as the man disappeared into the garage’s stairwell. A careful sigh when Ryan emerged on the fifth floor, making his way towards his car. 

Movement from behind a row of parked cars. A stocky man stepped out, pointing a gun at Ryan’s head. Weber, IDed as a suspect for killing those women almost from the get go. The CPD had just never been able to get enough evidence. He looked normal. 

But then, _he_ looked normal, so that meant nothing. 

Ryan instantly held up his hands. They talked, a quick exchange of words that made him wish he had bothered to learn how to read lips. 

Something made him hold back on taking the shot. 

Maybe he wanted Ryan to get this arrest. To be able to finally turn in a serial killer. It was, perhaps, the least he owed him. And through the high-powered scope, he could see that Weber hadn’t taken the safety off on his gun. 

His crosshairs never left the man’s head, though. 

Ryan took a step forward, one hand out in a calming gesture. Weber lowered his gun slightly. With a move that had to have been recently learned, Ryan twisted Weber’s arm, forcing the gun away from him, then punched him square in the jaw. It stunned Weber, giving Ryan enough time to pull his own weapon. 

The barrel of Ryan’s gun was barely an inch away from Weber’s nose. There was a breathless moment, time suspended. He knew that stance, could see the way Ryan’s finger tightened on the trigger. 

“Do it,” he said under his breath, a thrill of _pride, lust_ -hope running through him. “Kill him, fucking kill him, Ryan.” 

Weber was exactly the kind of person that Ryan should _want_ to kill and there was no witnesses, no security cameras. This was the perfect opportunity for Ryan to murder someone in cold blood, to snuff that life out. 

Ryan took a step back. Said something to Weber. Relaxed his arms slightly. Moved to pull his phone out. Weber shook his head and started to bring his gun up.

He pulled the trigger. 

There was the sound of two different shots. One distant and faint, the other loud in the confines of the hotel room. 

Weber might have survived the shot to the chest. 

But _his_ bullet was a .308 that went straight through Weber’s right eye. 

The human skull was not designed to handle that level of velocity and impact. He felt a little chagrined that Ryan had to witness the result from so close. 

He knew he didn’t have much time before the shot would be reported and he needed to move, but he kept his scope on Ryan for a few more precious seconds, just to look at him. Just to watch him react to the knowledge that he was being watched over. Protected. 

Ryan turned, searching frantically around the parking garage. Then he glanced back at what was left of Weber’s head. Then followed the path the bullet would have taken. And stared right in his direction.

He could see Ryan’s lips form his name. 

Then Ryan made a beckoning little gesture. 

His mouth went dry. His heart pounded. 

Ryan made the gesture again. A ‘come hither’ wave of fingers. An imperious finger pointing to the ground at Ryan’s feet. A command. 

Well. He had always been powerless to resist his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter...


	17. Chapter 17

“Congratulations on getting that guy, Captain.”

Ryan looked up from his beer, frowning in confusion at the new glass that was placed in front of him. “Oh, I didn’t order-”

The bartender smiled and nudged the glass a little closer. “Just a rum and coke. It’s on the house as a thank you for tracking down that dick.” She looked around, then leaned closer and whispered, “I know it’s wrong, but I’m not too upset that he was shot, either. I know someone that knew one of his victims.”

“Ah well, you’re welcome? Thank you for the drink,” Ryan said with no hesitation, just a small smile. He easily ignored the little voice in his head that said he didn’t deserve the praise. The voice had grown smaller over the years and had almost completely disappeared. 

He wondered sometimes if that voice was his conscience. His own little Jiminy Cricket, slowly dying away.

The bartender smiled at him, then made her way towards the other end of the bar, where a group of friends was enthusiastically getting drunk. Ryan turned his attention back towards the TV, even if it bored him. A half hour away from 2029, and the only thing on every screen in the building was the time zone adjusted Times Square New Years celebration.

He was glad he had turned down the friendly invitation from coworkers to go watch the fireworks at the Navy Pier. Just the idea of being surrounded by so many happy people was exhausting. God, he felt old. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he pulled it out to see that Kaylee had sent him a cheerful text wishing him a happy New Years and then a second text that was a scathing entreaty to not sit alone in the house like a curmudgeon. He smiled despite himself. Omar’s daughter took after her father so much that it was like a punch to the gut sometimes. 

Someone settled onto the barstool next to him, their long coat just brushing against his leg. He absently tucked his knee back into his own space, too busy replying to Kaylee to notice what was going on around him.

It was sweet of her to keep in touch with him like this, even though the only thing that really tied them together was Omar. He was sure that in a couple of years, her occasional visits would fall off and her polite texts would disappear. She had her own life now and had moved on from her father’s death. She was a strong young woman. He was as proud of her as he thought he had the right to be. 

Once it had been established that he was in no way trying to steal her father away from her or, worse yet, trying to become some sort of parental figure, they had become friends. Cohorts in making Omar’s life a living hell. 

Fuck, he missed that sense of contentment. 

Absently, he brought his hand up to his chest, touching the two rings through his shirt. It was a habit, a nervous tick that he had never bothered to train out of himself. He put down his phone, reaching towards his beer.

“I’m sorry about your fiance.”

He had heard those words so often in the past few months that a polite reply was already on his lips when the voice registered. 

Over nine years gone and he had never forgotten it. He was already forgetting what Omar sounded like, but _this_ voice haunted his dreams. Deep when serious, expressive and on a higher register when joking around, able to pick up and drop a ridiculous accent with ease. It was a voice that always sounded vaguely smug, like it’s owner was in on a joke that no one else knew about.

Ryan’s hand hesitated for the barest of moments before he continued picking up his glass. He didn’t gulp down the rest of his beer, but it wasn’t for lack of wanting to. Afraid that he was just hearing things, he couldn’t quite bring himself to look to his right. 

“Are you sorry?” he asked softly, genuinely curious. 

“Of course. No one should have to go through that twice.”

And _fuck_ , that hurt. 

His fingers clenched around his glass. “Didn’t think you were going to show.”

Ryan had waited anxiously- _hopefully_ \- for days after Weber had been killed. But no long dead memory had darkened his doorstep and he had let go of his anticipation after a week. He should have known better than to expect anything _predictable_. 

“Had to take care of a few things.”

It was like he was twenty-eight again and forcing himself into blatant denial. His knee-jerk reaction was to tell himself that he didn’t want to know what those ‘things’ were and what was meant by ‘take care of.’ He forced that denial away. He was nearly fucking forty and had lived with this guilt for a decade. 

This time, he wasn’t going to allow himself the luxury of looking the other way. 

Ryan took a deep breath, then turned to his right. 

And - _God, he looks good_.

Shane was older than he remembered, with pronounced wrinkles at his eyes and a heaviness to his cheeks that only came with age. His hair was showing signs of thinning at the edges and there were a few gray strands glinting in the bar lights. But he was still unmistakably _Shane_. 

That faint smirk, those dark eyes. That softly intense expression. Black gloves and a dark, fitted coat that went down to his thighs, clothes he had never pictured the man in. The collar of a jean jacket, the edge of a flannel shirt under both and those damned hipster glasses, _seriously_?

It was so painful. 

Ryan wasn’t sure if he wanted to punch Shane or fall sobbing into his arms. 

_You should arrest him_.

Instead, he opened his mouth and the first words to come out were, “Christ, Madej, hipsters went out of fashion years ago.”

Shane blinked, then a smile spread over his features that was so bright it was blinding. He looked so goddamn _happy_. “It’s part of my signature look, baby. Don’t fix what ain’t broke.”

Ryan laughed, the sound forced out of him. He wasn’t sure what he would have done if the bartender hadn’t chosen that moment to show up and take Shane’s order. Probably something regrettable. 

They sat in a silence that shouldn’t have been as comfortable as it was while the bartender poured a beer, then sat it in front of Shane. Once she had walked far enough away, Ryan asked, “Why were you watching me that night?”

Shane looked taken aback, probably because Ryan wasn’t tiptoeing around the subject. Hell, he was a little surprised himself. But this was not the time for pretending. Ryan didn’t have the luxury of denial anymore.

The other man tapped his fingers on the bar in a pointless little rhythm, his beautiful brown eyes looking down. Ryan came to the abrupt realization that Shane was nervous. Damn if that didn’t make him feel better. 

“How do you want me to answer that?” Shane eventually replied, glancing up through long lashes, the charming ass. 

“The truth, Shane.”

It felt so good to say his name out loud. 

Shane worried his bottom lip between his teeth, a distracting little display. Ryan knew he was doing it on purpose, but it had been over a year since he had gotten laid and logic had no place in what he was finding attractive right now. _Damn tease_. Shane’s mouth quirked up into a playful smile after a moment, but his answer was deadly serious.

“If anyone is going to kill you, it’s going to be me.”

Well. He really should have expected that. 

There was something wrong with him, Ryan knew. He should have felt fear. Worry. Even basic concern. But all he felt at the admission was a strange little thrill of _something_. It wasn’t lust, not really. It was some kind of excitement, something triumphant. To have it said out loud like that, to have Shane look him in the eyes and tell the truth, it was somehow better than any fantasy he could have ever imagined. 

“I should arrest you,” Ryan said. Because it had to be said. He had to acknowledge what he _wasn’t_ doing. 

Shane inclined his head. “You should.” 

Finally, Ryan looked away. Old, heavy guilt settled in his stomach. 

“How many?”

“Ry-”

“How many people have you killed, Shane?” Ryan asked, his voice so low that it was barely heard over the sounds of the TV and drunken celebrations around them.

“When?”

Ryan glanced up at that. “What, you have fucking phases or something? Like a painter? Don’t tell me you’ve gone all ‘murder is an artform’ on me.”

Shane rolled his eyes, looking so exasperated and fond that Ryan finally had to admit to himself just how much he wanted to kiss that stupid face. “Yes, for a while I had a blue period, just like Picasso.” He shook his head. “No, are you asking me how many over all or just as the Lover?”

Ryan actually shivered at that. 

Fuck, he had never thought he would hear Shane straight up say he was the Lover. Shame and utter fascination mixed together in a horrible nauseating cocktail. He felt like he just wanted to crawl into Shane’s head and live there, just to figure out how the man worked. 

“Both, I guess.” He tried not to sound as breathless as he felt. 

Judging by the way Shane smirked, he wasn’t very successful. The man leaned towards him. Ryan echoed the movement unconsciously, the space between them narrowing to something intimate. Shane’s voice was a low murmur that verged into a seductive whisper. “Two while on duty.” A subtle, mischievous smile, a glance from the corner of dark eyes. “Fifteen as the Lover.”

Ryan’s breath caught in his throat. Fifteen was...holy shit. How could they have missed so many bodies?

Those intense dark eyes dropped down to Ryan’s mouth. Shane’s hand crept across the bar towards him, fingers brushing against the sleeve of Ryan’s coat. “Nineteen since then,” Shane breathed. “Thirty-six in total.”

A sense of actual betrayal stole over Ryan and he jerked away, breaking whatever spell of intimacy that had fallen between the two of them. It was stupid, Shane was a criminal, a mad man, a _murderer_. But for some reason he had thought that a whispered promise in the dark between two lovers had meant something. 

“You promised,” he said in a low, broken voice. He started to stand, unsure what he was planning on doing. “I fucking trusted you.”

Shane’s eyes went wide, that dangerous, playful seduction melting into actual fear. He caught Ryan’s wrist, long fingers a heavy weight that stopped him cold. His gloves were leather, rough and chilled. “Ryan, no,” Shane said in a suddenly desperate voice, a jarring switch from earlier. “No, they weren’t innocents, I swear. I promised you, I never broke that promise, please, I swear,” Shane’s voice went high-pitched and pleading. He looked like he was about to slide off the stool and onto his knees to beg that Ryan believe him. 

For a frozen moment, Ryan could only stare. This lethal, dangerous man, an admitted killer of dozens of people, with a manic, crazed gleam in his eyes, was a second away from breaking into tears. 

And he realized something. Something he should have figured out years ago. 

_This man is insane. Literally, actually insane._

Ryan glanced around the bar, thankful that no one was paying attention to them. But that would change really soon if Shane got any louder. And while it as tempting to think that he knew exactly how Shane would react in any situation, it was obvious that a lot had changed over the years. He didn’t want to get anyone else involved if something went wrong. 

“Shane,” he said, interrupting the stream of words. He reached up with his free hand and lay his fingers along Shane’s cheek. The feel of warm skin and rough stubble was a shock to the system. He wanted to keep touching. But he kept control of himself and merely used the touch to make Shane look at him. “Calm down. I believe you. Who-no, I don’t need to know who they were. Just. Why?”

Shane closed his eyes, dragging in a breath through his nose. When he opened them, a semblance of calm had fallen over him. He leaned into Ryan’s hand for a moment, then straightened up, letting the contact fall away. “I...Wait. I’ll show you.” 

He pulled out a wallet, flipping through various receipts and cards, then handed a plain white business card to Ryan. There was just a single international phone number on it. 

“I don’t-”

“If you called that number, you’d be put in contact with someone that knows how to get ahold of me. And then I’d...take care of a problem for you. For a lot of money.”

Ryan’s mouth fell open. “Are you fucking shitting me?”

That teasing, mocking grin that he had missed _so much_ spread across Shane’s face. “Nope.”

“You’re a fucking _assassin_?”

“Fucking costs extra.”

Ryan made a high-pitched incredulous noise that should not come out of someone nearly forty, then pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Shut up, Shane.”

“I really missed hearing that.”

He snorted. “You would, creep.”

Shit, it was all too easy to fall back to the way it had been a decade ago. 

“I have so many questions on how that even happened,” Ryan continued after a pause. “Like, did you watch too many spy thrillers and thought ‘yeah, sure, that looks like fun’? How do you even become- Wait, nevermind, that’s not important.” For fuck’s sake. _Act like the fucking detective you are_. The emotional and mental extremes he’d gone through in the last ten fucking minutes were giving him whiplash. “These nineteen? Promise me they deserved it.”

Shane’s expression softened. “Yes, Ryan. I promise.”

The business card in his hand was a stark reminder that Ryan had no idea what had happened to Shane over the years. There were so many things he wanted to ask, to talk about. So many mental conversations he’d had in his head with an imaginary Shane, good and bad. There had been times where he had wanted nothing more than to scream at the man, yelling every swear and expletive he could think of. And other times, he had missed the sound of Shane breathing next to him in sleep with a such a fierce sorrow that it had physically hurt. 

“Why didn’t you ever call me?”

Shane glanced down at the untouched glass next to him on the bar. His mouth pulled down into a frown. 

“Shane.”

“You would have made me come back. And then you would have arrested me.”

“You don’t know that,” Ryan said, not even sure why he was arguing. Fuck, of course he would have arrested him. Right? “And you could have fucking emailed me, or something. Some form of communication.”

“Ryan,” Shane said, soft, dark eyes meeting his. “I can’t say no to you. I’d have come back. Shit, look what happened when I did reveal myself to you. You didn’t even have to say anything. You pointed to the ground and I came to heel like a well-trained dog.”

Anyone else would have said that with anger, bitterness, maybe some kind of resentment. Shane said it like he was reporting on the stock market. A dry recitation of fact. 

“And,” he continued with something resembling a smile. “You’re already planning on how to get me in handcuffs.”

“I-”

“I would have lost interest in you after about a month if I had thought I could have manipulated you that easily. The very fact that you protected me for ten years and you’re thinking of turning me in now that I’m in front of you is just so _interesting_. You’re obsessed with murder. With taking a life. But some lingering morality stops you from ever going through with it. It’s captivating, enthralling, _fascinating_. I don’t know what I would do if you ever actually took the plunge. ”

There was something dangerous in that statement. It wasn’t a threat, but adrenaline was starting to creep through Ryan’s body all the same. And the dissection of his character was not something he thought he could handle right now. It raised too many questions about himself that he didn’t want the answers to. 

The sudden cheerful shouting around them made them both startle. Ryan looked up in time to see a countdown start on the TV screens. Everyone else in the bar was laughing and drunkenly merry, chanting the numbers down in unison, getting louder with each one. 

Ryan and Shane just stared at each other. 

On five, Shane stood up. He loomed in a way that was a delicious echo of the past. His thighs pressed into Ryan’s knees. On three, he pulled off his gloves, placing them on the bar. 

At one, Ryan tilted his head up.

Shane slipped one hand into Ryan’s open coat, caressing down his side, and cupped Ryan’s jaw with the other hand. Then leaned down. 

They kissed like no time had passed. Like there weren’t ten long, painful years between them. Shane’s lips were still familiar, could still send a thrill down his spine. Ryan clutched onto Shane’s dark coat, pulling him closer. They deepened the kiss, tongues brushing together in a languid dance that neither had forgotten, ignoring the cheering going on the around them, the shouting and general happiness. 

For several brief, blissful seconds, it was just the two of them. 

Shane was the one to pull back, his expression melancholy. “I love you.”

A long shuddering breath fell out of Ryan. He let his forehead rest against Shane’s chest. “Perry,” he said. The name was muffled, but he knew Shane would hear it. “Huang. Rodriguez. Cohen. Churchill. Nguyen. Kapoor. Wallace.”

Breath stirred the hair on top of his head. 

Then a murmur almost lower than his own. “Gamal, Murphy, and Nowak. Bianchi and Johnson. Hite.” A quiet ghost of a laugh. “Vergara.”

Ryan couldn’t help the way he shivered. “Fuck.”

“I never forgot them, Ryan. If that’s any consolation.”

“I...If-I just. If you had only killed criminals, I might have-” _Just admit it_. “I could have looked the other way. But those women were all innocent. Just going about their lives.”

“I know." It was a soothing whisper, a hushed comfort. 

“Why? Why did you kill them?”

Shane’s arms came up in a hug, draping across Ryan’s shoulders. “The truth?”

Ryan nodded, heart in his throat. He had the feeling he already knew the answer, but he needed to hear it. 

“Because I could. Because I was curious. Bored. It was a challenge. And then I found out I was good at it.”

“You fucking psychopath,” Ryan said. Too fondly. On the verge of tears. Sick curiosity made him ask, “How the hell did you get so many women alone?”

A chuckle that rumbled in the chest under his head. “Do you know how many women automatically swipe right on Tinder if you’re over six foot?” A pause. “Well, no, I guess you wouldn't. For a couple of reasons.”

Ryan laughed out loud. It was all he could do. “You’re a dick.”

“You love it.”

“God help me, I do.” A whisper that shook. “I love you.”

He pushed gently at Shane, who followed the cue without hesitation and backed away. They stared at each other, fond but mournful. They both knew what was coming. 

Ryan took a deep breath. “Shane Madej, you’re under arrest for the murders of fifteen people in the state of California. You have the right to remai-” his voice choked off into a broken sob. He tried to keep going, but it was pointless. 

Shane just watched him for a moment with a sad smile. He leaned forward enough to kiss him on top of the head. “Goodbye, Ryan.”

Then he just...walked away. 

Ryan did nothing to stop him. He had his gun. He had his handcuffs. And he just watched. 

“Oh honey, are you just going to let him go?”

The voice of the bartender startled Ryan. A flush of panic made him whip his head around. “Wh-what?”

She nodded towards the door. “That was a pretty hot kiss. And it’s the first time I’ve heard you genuinely laugh since Omar passed away. You shouldn’t let mystery man just walk away like that.”

_She’s not wrong._

“Captain, you deserve to be happy.”

Well, she was wrong about that. But…

“Just throw it on my tab, okay?” Ryan said, standing in a hurry and buttoning his coat. At the last moment, he turned and grabbed the gloves that Shane had left on the bar. 

“Don’t worry about it!” the bartender yelled after him.

Ryan ran out of the building, the blast of frozen air hitting him in the face and making him cough. He swore he would never get used to cold winters. 

There was a tall, thin figure a block away, head down and crossing the street. Ryan bit back the urge to yell his name. If anyone that knew him heard him calling for ‘Shane’, there would be trouble.

“Hey, Sasquatch!”

The figure paused, then turned. Ryan hurried towards him, holding up the gloves in his hands. “You forgot these.”

Shane stared at him, his breath turning to fog in between them. He looked good in the crisp, cold air, wearing layers like he had been born to them. And, Ryan realized, he had. This was why Ryan had moved away from Los Angeles, why he had left all that he knew. For the smallest chance that he would see something about Shane that he hadn’t already known, some new hint into his psyche.

He was just as obsessed as Shane had ever been. 

“Ryan…” Shane trailed off. His name was a warning, a word of pleading. 

“You told me that you would do anything for me.”

Those broad shoulders slumped. Shane sighed, a resigned sound. “You don’t want to do this.”

Ryan held out the gloves. 

A second of hesitation, then Shane took them.

“Come back to my place,” Ryan said. He wasn’t sure who was more surprised by his offer. Shane didn’t even pretend to think about it. 

The drive back to his house had that same quiet familiarity that had overshadowed their entire interaction. It was disconcerting to be driving Chicago streets when Shane was sitting next to him. He kept expecting to turn and see Shane in a button up shirt and tie, with his LAPD badge on his belt. 

They parked in front of a small house, the perfect size for two men planning on building a life together. It felt too big, now. Ryan had no idea what to do with half of the rooms. One of the last fights he’d had with Omar had been over the man’s will. He had wanted to refuse any and all money, insisting that all of it go to Kaylee. Omar had just as stubbornly told him that he was paying off the house’s mortgage and there was nothing Ryan could do to stop him. 

Now Ryan was the owner of a house in city he had never intended to live in. 

Shane automatically slipped his shoes off at the front door and Ryan had to stop himself from fucking sobbing. He focused on taking off his coat, scarf, and shoes, then took all of Shane’s outer layers as well. It was a little moment of domesticity that was not helping with his urge to cry. 

He threw everything onto an armchair, even his gun, then turned to find that Shane was right behind him, crowding into his space. 

“You built a life with a 6’2” straight Midwesterner that you met at work. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that?”

Ryan scowled, glaring up at him. “You’re the one that always told me you’re allowed to have a type.”

“Ryan,” Shane said on a laugh, his smile almost condescending. “If Davis had been white, he could have been my twin.”

The comparison had been made before, but Ryan didn’t particularly appreciate it. “He also wasn’t an unstable murderer, either.”

Shane shrugged, as if to say ‘no one is perfect.’

“Are you trying to tell me that you were jealous?”

Long fingers came up to his neck, caressing across his throat. “I was a little flattered. But if there had been a single thing in his history to mark him as a criminal, he would have been dead the day he proposed to you.”

Ryan swallowed. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’. You fucking creep.”

Shane smiled, then ducked down and kissed him, a sweet brush of lips. “You love it. Once you turn off that pesky little conscience of yours, you’re fascinated by me. By what I do.” His voice dropped to a husky whisper. “I still have your scar. I’m sure you remember how I got it.”

All too fucking well.

“Shane…”

The man drew back just enough study Ryan’s face. “I wonder if you would have killed me that night if I had pushed you far enough.”

From this close, Ryan could see how Shane’s pupils dilated, until the brown had all but disappeared. “Fuck, is that a fucking turn on for you?”

Shane blinked slowly, a lazy smirk making him look like a demon come to life. “Let me fuck you.”

So, yes, the idea of Ryan killing him was a turn on. Jesus fucking Christ. 

“The really screwed up part of all of this is that I still love you.”

A low, rumbling laugh. “No, Ryan,” Shane said, then dropped his hand to Ryan’s half hard erection, rubbing and squeezing lightly through his pants. “Your reaction is the screwed up bit. Stop pretending. Stop acting like you have any morals left for this night.”

One more squeeze that made Ryan groan, then Shane took a step away. “You can go back to telling yourself you’re a normal, boring, virtuous human being tomorrow.”

God, this was wrong. Just what the hell did he think he was doing? He should have called dispatch as soon as possible, he should have found a way to get cuffs on Shane. _Something_. But the idea, the promise in Shane’s voice, it was far more tempting than the last lingering vestiges of his conscience, that dying inner voice. 

Ryan launched himself at Shane, practically climbing him. Shane grunted in surprise, catching him, but he got the idea quickly enough. Their mouths met in a clash that was more of a fight than a kiss. Teeth came together with an audible clack, then Shane bit his tongue, nothing teasing or gentle in the acton. Ryan jerked back, swore, then tangled his fingers in Shane’s hair, pulling him back down. 

They stumbled through the living room and up the stairs, Ryan taking the lead just so he could stand a step above Shane and feel taller for once. The mocking smile that got him was wonderfully infuriating. By the time they made it into the bedroom, both were shirtless, Ryan was down to socks and boxers, and they both had dark marks on their necks that were already painful to the touch. 

Shane actually _picked him up_ and threw him onto the bed and fuck, what the hell had he been doing that required that kind of muscle? Ryan didn’t have long to wonder about it, because Shane was suddenly on top of him, completely naked and completely distracting. 

They had sex like they weren't older and tired, like Ryan had never had a fiance, like he hadn't pulled two guns and four different knives off Shane. Like they had all the time in the world. The desperate, gut-wrenching knowledge that this could never happen again, that it shouldn't even be happening now, drove them. Made them savor each moment. 

It was intense. Meticulous. Ryan nearly came multiple times, from large hands, a wet, hungry mouth, or even just the pressure of Shane on top of him, but he held back each time. 

Ryan kept returning to the scar on Shane's shoulder, the imprint left from his teeth suspiciously clear. He wondered how many times Shane had dug his fingernails into the skin there, just to keep it from fading.

At one point, Shane took the simple chain with it's two rings off of Ryan's neck, then removed his. He slipped it onto Ryan's ring finger, then dropped the other ring and chain somewhere off the side of the bed. Ryan couldn't bring himself to care where Omar's ring landed. 

Maybe tomorrow he would be overcome with guilt, but in the moment, he wanted nothing more than to be marked as Shane's. 

They had been quiet for the most part, with occasional whispers of 'yes’ and 'please’ mixing in with soft sighs and stuttering moans. Then Shane started to talk. Generic things at first, dirty, but tame. Ryan wasn’t paying much attention at the beginning, focusing more on the cadence of his voice than the words.

“You like it,” Shane said, increasing the pace of his thrusts to such a degree that Ryan threw his head back in a wanton groan that echoed off the walls.“You like knowing you control me. That I’ll do _whatever_ you want.”

It took a moment for the words to sink in, then Ryan moaned, surprised into it. What was going on? Just where was this going?

Shane flattened against him, dropping his head down to whisper, his breath a warm caress of air across Ryan’s ear. “I’d kill anyone for you. And you love it.”

“Fuck,” Ryan breathed, nerves on fire, painfully aware of every point of contact between the two of them. He pressed up as much as he could, falling into a sudden need for _more_. “Shane, please.”

“Please what? Fuck you harder?” Lips brushed the skin under his ear, then there was a wicked, seductive laugh. “Please keep talking?”

“ _Shane_.”

“Please kill someone for you?”

Ryan bit him on the mouth, nothing of a kiss in the action. Shane just laughed again, licking his bruised lips, then pinned Ryan’s wrists to the bed in a swift movement. “Admit it. You love having a murderer on your leash. ”

He strained against the hold, more to feel the weight of the man on top of him than to actually get out of it. There was no use pretending that he wasn’t desperate at this point. 

“Admit it,” Shane said. He was begging. Pleading. There was yearning under the sinful quality of his voice. It triggered something in Ryan. “Please, Ryan, admit it.”

“Yes,” He gasped in response, without hesitation or pause. There was no going back now. “I want to watch,” he said. The admission made him moan, the sudden euphoric feeling almost more addicting than the feel of Shane inside of him. “I want to see you use a knife, I want to see you covered in blood, I-I _want_ -”

“God, you’re wonderful.”

Suddenly there was a hand on his throat, a wide palm covering his Adam’s apple, long fingers pressed lovingly against his jaw line. Shane’s thumb brushed down his skin, then there was that welcome, terrifying pressure. 

Ryan did nothing to stop it. 

He looked into dark, beautiful eyes and relaxed back into the mattress. He said nothing when his breath became ragged and strained, when each pant for air scraped his throat raw. 

When dark spots started to dance in his vision, he brought his hand up to Shane’s wrist. And just held it there. When his head started to pound, when his body started to automatically twist and buck for freedom, he kept his eyes open. And watched Shane smile. Slowly. An expression filled with love. 

His chest burned. There was a roaring in his ears. 

The light seemed to dim. 

Distantly, the gasping, choking sounds of his own body’s instinctual fight for air. 

Dull fear.

The barest touch of lips to his cheek. 

Darkness. 

\-------------------

 

January 3rd, 2029. 

Shane Madej, former Detective for the LAPD, walked into the office of Captain Ryan Bergara of the Chicago Police Department. 

And turned himself in for fifteen unsolved murders in the state of California.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a journey. 
> 
> First, y'all are awesome. You have no idea how much your kudos and comments gave me inspiration. To actually write and finish something is a completely new experience to me! Thank you all so so much. 
> 
> Second! I have art! Ahhhhh!
> 
> [soft-cryptids](http://mephsation.tumblr.com/post/174412294386/gorgeous-art-done-by-soft-cryptids-for-my-fic) did this amazing piece. And a [ second piece!](http://mephsation.tumblr.com/post/174445475136/another-amazing-piece-by-soft-cryptids-who)
> 
> And [cosmic-cryptid](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard/blog/cosmic-cryptid/173527229271) did this lovely scene.
> 
> A big thank you to both of them. They made my cold heart go all aflutter.
> 
> Third, I can actually reply to people now, since I can't spoil anything. Or, if you want to talk to me on tumblr, you can go to [mephsation](http://mephsation.tumblr.com/).
> 
> \---- Additional Wicked Game Fanart by soft-cryptids -----
> 
> In celebration of breaking six hundred kudos (holy crap), soft-cryptids did [this!](http://mephsation.tumblr.com/post/177359698591/in-celebration-of-wicked-game-hitting-six-hundred)
> 
> [ Officer Shane. ](http://soft-cryptids.tumblr.com/post/180758095572/a-gift-for-mephsation-who-is-awesome-af-shane)
> 
> [ Crime scene art! ](http://soft-cryptids.tumblr.com/post/182451576622/solving-crimes-involves-a-lot-of-paperwork-a-gift)


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